101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life
by elemesnedene
Summary: Snape, Voldemort, Death Eaters – and a good deal of misery for everyone concerned. No romance, no deep plot themes. Just humor, randomness, and a whole lot of colorful insults being thrown around between characters. Rated “M” for foul language.
1. The Slumber Party

**101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life **

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**_Updated Note to the Reader_** (_11-15-07_):

At first glance, this chapter appears to be an _ungodly_ length. And while it's true that this is probably one of the longest humor-fics you've read, I _must_ stress that the first four chapters are about 70-80 percent dialogue. Subsequent chapters are about 90 percent dialogue. Thus, they are all _much_ shorter than they appear. I attribute the relatively small number of reviews to the fact that this fic _seems_ so long, and people give up before they begin. So if you've opened this story and already feel intimidated by its length, I hope you'll keep reading anyway. And I strongly encourage you to read beyond chapter one, as it's not very representative of my best work. That's not to say it isn't funny, but it moves more slowly than most of the other chapters. I'd like to think that this fic is getting better and better as it moves along.

Happy reading! (And please review!)

- elemesnedene

**NOTE: **If I remember correctly, in _Order of the Phoenix_, the mass breakout that frees Bellatrix Lestrange and several other Death Eaters from Azkaban occurs _after _Harry returns to Hogwarts. I've taken an "artistic liberty," however, by pretending that they were already free by late July (preceeding Harry's fifth year). I am aware of this continuity error. Please try to ignore it if you can. I'll do my best to avoid straying from canon in the future, but for the purposes of this story, I really needed them to be loose a few months earlier. Also, I've made up a couple of spells. Technically, they're probably incorrect, but I'm really not in the mood to conjugate verbs. In any case, _pario _means "create," and _corrumpo _roughly means "destroy" or "annihilate."

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything you recognize, including the couple of references to Seinfeld and Family Guy (though I'm not sure how blatant the latter is).

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**.1.**

**Chapter 1: The Slumber party **

Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape were sitting in the Headmaster's office, having a very serious discussion about very serious topics -- specifically, Death Eaters, Voldemort, and a number of other very scary things -- when Dumbledore was suddenly thrown from his train of thought by a loud, obnoxious noise, which seemed to be issuing from Snape's robes. He watched in bewilderment as Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out a violently pink cell phone.

"Severus... what on earth is that?" asked Dumbledore.

"It's a RAZR," answered Snape. Noticing that Dumbledore's expression hadn't become any less confused, he rolled his eyes and elaborated: "A cell phone. It's a muggle device to which the Dark Lord has taken a liking."

"The noise coming out of it is terrible!" cried Dumbledore. "Has Voldemort bewitched this muggle device to contain Dark magic?"

"No... that 'noise' would be _Master of Puppets _by Metallica. Anytime the Dark Lord calls us or sends a text message, it always plays that damn song."

"That noise is _music_? Why does Voldemort use that particular song? It's ghastly!"

"Yes, well, I expect that's the point. The Dark Lord tends to like _ghastly _things, doesn't he? However, the more specific reason for his choice of this song is, I believe, the lyrics. You know, 'Come crawling faster, obey your master...' Very appropriate, you see."

"Obey your...?"

Snape scowled at Dumbledore's persistent confusion and said, "I don't know. He said he thinks it's a laugh."

Finally registering the the color of the phone, Dumbledore chuckled. "My, my, Severus. I've known you for so many years, yet I never would have guessed that pink was your color of preference."

A pained expression passed over Snape's face. "The Dark Lord picked it out. He felt that it would be -- ah -- _amusing _for me to have to carry something _pink _in my pocket 24 hours a day."

Dumbledore continued to chuckle as Snape opened the phone. "Just a moment," he said. "The Dark Lord has sent me a text."

"What does the message say?" inquired Dumbledore.

Snape read it aloud with a look of distaste on his face: "'u should totally come 2 luce's crib 2nite at 11 b/c his old lady & kid r out of town 4 the weekend. avery says he can get sum chronic. plz bring cheetos. ttyl'." He sighed. "_Luce _is Lucius Malfoy, in case you were wondering."

"Why does he use all those numbers and abbreviations?" asked Dumbledore.

"Because he's a lazy piece of crap, just like every other idiot who sits around incessantly sending text messages," spat Snape, sneering.

"Chronic..." Dumbledore mused. "Is that a disease?"

"No, he means weed."

"Huh?"

"Pot."

"What?"

"Green."

"Excuse me?"

"Dope."

"Pardon?"

"Dank."

"What?"

"Marijuana."

"Excuse--"

"It's drugs, you senile old fart!" barked Snape.

Before Dumbledore had time to ask what the hell "drugs" were, _Master of Puppets _started up again. "Hang on," muttered Snape. "He's sent another one. It says... 'p.s. make sure it's the puffy cheetos, u kno how luce hates the crunchy 1s.'"

"How could anybody hate the crunchy ones?" asked an incredulous Dumbledore.

"Apparently they cut the roof of his mouth... Headmaster, is there any way we could finish this conversation quickly? I have a distinct feeling that these are just the first in a very long line of texts, most of which will probably be equally annoying requests for food." Just as finished saying this, another text came through, which he read aloud: "'get funyuns 2.'"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak, but a fourth text message popped up on the phone: "'also pepsi. bella wont drink coke.'"

Snape let out an exasperated sigh, and Dumbledore attempted to steer the conversation back to more serious matters: "I assume you've heard no more details about the--"

Dumbledore stopped. _Master of Puppets _was, yet again, blaring from the phone. Snape glanced at the message: "'on 2nd thought go ahead and bring crunchy cheetos 2.'"

Seeing that their meeting was going nowhere fast, Dumbledore was about to dismiss Snape when the phone played another chorus of _Master of Puppets_. Snape pushed 'talk' and put the phone to his ear. "Hello? No, I'm-"

"Who's that?" Dumbledore asked.

Snape cupped his hand over the receiver and whispered, "It's the Dark Lord. He's already gotten into the Firewhiskey, and he's drunk-dialing. ..._Again_." Snape returned his attention to the phone: "Yes. ... That is true-- ... Naturally, my Lord. ... I am aware of -- ... Indeed, but --"

It quickly became apparent to Dumbledore that this conversation was fairly one-sided. He was beginning to get irritated, and he was debating whether to simply evict the Potions Master from his office, when he heard Snape saying, "What? ... No, I'm sitting with Professor Dumbledore. I can't leave just yet. ... Yes, but--" There was a pause, and then Snape said, "...You want to what? ... With Dumbledore? ... Are you certain that this is wise--? ... Of course, my Lord, I meant no offense-- ... Yes, certainly." Snape cupped his hand over the mouth of the phone again and addressed the headmaster: "The Dark Lord says he wishes to speak with you."

Puzzled, Dumbledore reached out and took the phone. "Hello? ... Good evening, Tom." A loud shriek issued from the phone when Dumbledore used Voldemort's childhood name. The headmaster ignored it, saying, "I trust I find you well? ... Am I to understand that-- ... Of course he-- ... I really don't see how it's any of your business what detergent I use on my -- ... Well, do you mean for whites or colors? ... Clorox for whites, obviously. ... Excuse me? ... That's my private affair, and I refuse to-- ... Tom, I'm afraid I don't know how to talk to you in this state. ... You don't seem entirely yourself. ... I'm sure you don't mean that-- ... I must insist that you stop interrupting me if you wish to-- ... No-- ... DAMMIT!" With a look of disgust, Dumbledore flipped the phone shut and threw it back to Snape.

"May I ask what just transpired, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore looked livid and said, "Just go. I don't feel like... He was implying that..." He shook his head. "No, just go."

Snape looked at him quizzically but complied, sweeping silently from the office. He stood outside for a moment. _Damn it to hell._ He needed Funyuns, Cheetos, and Pepsi. He'd was definitely going to have to go to the store.

**.1.**

Severus Snape's life was seriously going down the shitter. He'd come to the conclusion that pretty much everything sucked. It was late July, less than two months after the Dark Lord's return, and Snape was beginning to think of this as the ultimate "low point" of his existence. And that's saying a lot, considering how shitty his life had been. Truth be told, no one was very pleased about the Dark Lord's return. Well, except for Bellatrix, of course, but she'd never been "all there" in the head. Wait, no... Correction: she was absolutely bat-shit insane. But everyone else was pretty pissed about it. The _idea _of the Dark Lord returning was far more glorious than the reality of the situation. When he'd signed up to be a Death Eater, Snape had assumed it would be a pretty sweet gig: the kind of impressive, prestigious thing you'd definitely want to put on your résumé one day. As it turned out, putting it on your résumé was a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Quite the disappointment, really. On the other hand, being a Death Eater was kind of sexy. Well, it was sexy to _outsiders_, which, he supposed, made it useful in the sense that it might potentially help him get laid, if he were so inclined to bother trying -- and not that he needed help, anyway. But no one who actually knew anything about the Dark Lord or his Death Eaters could possibly think it was sexy. Sure, it _seemed _mysterious and Dark, but in all actuality, the Dark Lord was an insecure, validation-seeking little bitch. Spending the large majority of one's time stroking the Dark Lord's ego was _not_ part of the original Death Eater job description, and Snape _really _didn't appreciate the fact that it was now a necessary requirement if you wanted to stay in the Dark Lord's service (and, more importantly, on his _good _side -- if he can be said to have a good side). _Yes_, thought Snape, _the Dark Lord may be a little bitch, but that doesn't stop him from killing everyone in sight_. _Especially when he's PMSing. ...Which is all the goddamn time_.

So now Snape was on the way to the store. But which store? Where the hell do you buy Funyuns? Who honestly eats Funyuns, for god's sake? _Maybe you can buy them at a 7-Eleven_, he thought. _No, that's ridiculous_. He didn't even know where to find a 7-Eleven. But maybe he could conjure up some Funyuns? True, it's supposed to be impossible to conjure food out of thin air, but were Funyuns really _food _in the traditional sense? _Might as well give it a try_, he thought.

He pulled out his wand and said, "_Pario Funyuns_!" And there they were. Well, that was unrealistically easy... but no time to dwell on it! It was 10:15, and he still had to go to the store for the other items.

**.1. **

At 10:45, Snape stood at the front door of the Malfoy Manor, holding a huge sack of junk food, and waiting impatiently to be let in. A terrified-looking house elf appeared at the door, gazed up at Snape, and asked, "Password, sir?"

Snape looked at him warily for a moment. "_What_?" he snapped.

"Dingleberry is needing the password, sir, to let you in," said the elf.

"What's a dingleberry?"

"Dingleberry is Dingleberry's name, sir. It is the longest name in the history of house elves. But Dingleberry is needing the password, sir."

"There is no password, you insolent little rat," spat Snape.

"But there is, sir, for tonight. Master... Master-Can't-Say-His-Name-Or-Dingleberry-Gets-Flogged-Within-An-Inch-Of-His-Life says that tonight there is to be passwords."

Snape sighed. "The Dark Lord is already bloody well _crocked_, isn't he?"

The elf shuffled his feet nervously and repeated, "Dingleberry is needing the password, sir."

"It's something incredibly _stupid_, isn't it?"

"Dingleberry cannot be saying, sir."

Rolling his eyes in disdain, Snape began listing off possible passwords: "Let's see, what would he use...? Organizations, perhaps--? Mudblood Haters Anonymous? National Association of Muggle Hunting? ...No?" he asked, looking at the elf, who didn't respond. "Fine. I'll try again. Mudblood? _Avada Kedavra_? Inferi? Murdering-psychopath? Power-hungry-jackass? _Crucio_? I'm-an-insecure-little-pansy-who-fancies-himself-evil-because-I-like-to-kill-people? Dark Lord? Tom? Tom Riddle? Tom-Dick-and-Harry? Harry Potter? I-hate-Harry-Potter? (No, that would be my password.) Dumbledore? Malfoy? Death Eater? Chamber of Secrets? Slytherin? Snake? Nagini? ...Hell, I don't know! What is it? Is it, like, _dildo_, or something equally vulgar and absurd?!" The elf cowered but didn't say anything. Snape gave up. Pointing his wand at the elf, he yelled, "Damn it to hell! Let me in, you wretch. Let me in, and then slam your fingers in a hot oven, if you think it will help you assuage your _guilt_."

Dingleberry gave a little squeak and said, "The password is 'kitten whiskers.'"

Sneering, Snape stepped across the threshold and into the house. He entered the parlor and saw Lucius walking briskly toward him. "Severus, thank god you're here. Bella is driving me mad." He took hold of Snape's proffered bag of junk food and began rifling through it.

"Who else is here?" asked Snape.

"Yaxley, Lestrange (Rodolphus, that is), Macnair, Travers, and Wormtail. Avery should be here in a few minutes."

"Why is Wormtail here? I thought the Dark Lord said he wasn't inviting him to any more of these little 'get-togethers'."

"You know how Wormtail is. He's like that kid in school that everyone tries to avoid -- you know, the kid they try not to invite to the party, but somehow he _always _finds out anyway and always shows up and no one has the heart to tell him to leave."

"Right... But where--" began Snape.

"Dammit, Severus! You've brought the crunchy ones!" cried Lucius, brandishing the offending bag of Cheetos at Snape like a weapon.

"Don't interrupt me, Lucius. The other kind are in there as well, if you would take the time to look."

"Oh," said Lucius, looking relieved.

"As I was saying, where is the Dark Lord?"

"He is... indisposed." Lucius cast a quick look around and leaned toward Snape before whispering, "He's upstairs, and... I'm afraid he's gotten hold of Narcissa's stilettos."

"Ah..."

"Here, come on in. The others are waiting for us, and there's plenty to drink. Personally, I'm getting blitzed. When he's in this sort of mood, I find it much easier to face the Dark Lord after a drink or two. ...Or 12."

Nodding, Snape followed Lucius into the living room. _Tonight is destined to be horrible_, he thought. He wasn't sure why -- he just knew that it would be completely miserable. He could make that prediction with a reasonable degree of confidence, simply because pretty much anything and everything that happened to him usually proved to nightmarishly awful and unpleasant, and he couldn't see any reason to assume that this evening might turn out any differently. He acknowledged the presence of his fellow Death Eaters with a nod and then immediately headed for the bar.

As he prepared a modest drink for himself and reflected on how terrible his life was in general, Bellatrix spotted him from across the room. It was clear from the look on her face that she had decided that now would be as good a time as any to come bother the holy living shit out of him. He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and decided that light drinking wasn't going to be an option tonight. Abandoning all pretenses of a prudent attempt at moderation, he turned the bottle up and poured himself a rather indecent amount of Firewhiskey.

"Snape!" she said, walking toward him. "What are you doing here? You know I don't trust you."

He could tell she'd been drinking. Quite a lot. He really didn't want to have this discussion, but perhaps if he gave her an opportunity to vent her frustration, she'd get it out of her system. This in mind, he asked, "And why is it that you do not trust me, Bellatrix?"

"A hundred reasons!" she cried, pacing frantically back and forth. "Where to start! Where were you when the Dark Lord fell? Why did you never make any attempt to find him when--"

"You know, on second thought," said Snape wearily, "and _do _forgive me for interrupting -- but I think I'd rather not have this conversation. I have a feeling that it will be repeated verbatim sometime within the next two years. Excuse me."

He quickly stepped away from her, found a seat by the fireplace, and settled in. Addressing Lucius, he said, "So. What has occurred that has put our Lord in this... _unusual _mood?"

Lucius snorted. "He's depressed because he can't get George Harrison from the Beatles to respond to his fan mail."

"Remarkable," said Snape, genuinely startled. "You would think George Harrison would rush to answer any mail he got. The Dark Lord must be the first person to write him in 20 years. Possibly the first _ever_, actually."

"Yes, well, it's gotten him very upset. Especially coming on the heels of the Paul Reubens debacle."

"The what?"

Lucius sighed. "He's been writing Paul Reubens three times a week, trying to get Pee-Wee's Playhouse back on the air. Reubens has been pretty nice about it, actually. He says he doesn't have time to do the show anymore, though. He said something about spending too much time in movie theaters..."

"Why on earth would the Dark Lord want that mind-numbing, brain-liquidizing garbage back on television?" asked Snape.

"He wants to meet the King of Cartoons. And he wants to guest star and help Pee-Wee make snacks for the kids. Naturally, even if it did come back on the air, the producers would be daft to let him do it. Liability issue, you know... all those children..."

Suddenly there was a loud bang, and Snape and Lucius jumped in surprise. They rushed into the parlor with their wands out, only to see a very angry Avery striding into the house. Dingleberry the house elf was lying in a crumpled heap in the corner of the room.

"Did you just kill my house elf!?" exclaimed Lucius.

"What? No, I--" Avery glanced over at Dingleberry's motionless form. "Oh hell, I don't know. The little bastard called me a 'dingleberry!' Honestly, what would you have done? Anyway, it's not important. Listen, I've got a huge problem--"

"Those damn things are expensive!" interrupted Lucius. He looked awkward for a moment and then said nervously, "Not that I don't have the money, of course! It's not a question of the money. Money's not the issue..." As Lucius prattled on about the fact that he not only had "_plenty _of money," but also had what could almost be considered "_too much _money" (in a way that seemed altogether too defensive and exaggerated to be entirely believable), Yaxley and Wormtail wandered into the parlor. Lucius rambled on, oblivious to their presence (_possibly_, Snape thought, _oblivious to __**everyone's **__presence_): "It never _has _been a question of money, you see. Even with the current problems with the stock market, I've been lucky, or perhaps I should say _clever_, enough to find a way to--"

"Didn't you _hear _me?!" shouted Avery. "Big problem! Sprout backed out at the last second! She said her connection didn't come through! Here I am, under orders to bring pot to the Dark Lord, and I haven't got any!"

"_Professor _Sprout?" asked Snape, shocked.

"Yes! Oh god, what is he going to do with me?"

"I'll give you a hint," replied Lucius. "It starts with a 'c' and it rhymes with 'Fabio'."

There was a long pause.

"...No it doesn't," said Snape.

"Wait... No, I think it does. They both end with _io_," agreed Wormtail. Lucius nodded smugly.

"That isn't how it works. _Crucio _doesn't rhyme with Fabio! If _Crucio _makes an 'oooh' sound, then the word that rhymes with it would make an 'oooh' sound as well!"

"I'm going to have to disagree--" began Lucius.

"It doesn't matter!" roared Avery. "What matters is what's about to happen to me!"

"Yes, it was a terrible attempt at a joke, anyway," said Yaxley. "There's nothing poetic about Fabio. And somehow I don't see Edgar Allan Poe using the word _Crucio _or--"

"Well, poetry doesn't always have to rhyme," said Lucius.

"Generally, when poetry doesn't rhyme it's because it's badly written drivel, authored by talentless, angst-ridden, barely-pubescent 'goth' kids, who are only bothering to write it because they need a break from cutting themselves!" sneered Snape.

"That's not true. What about--"

"Doesn't anyone care about what's going to happen to me!?!" bellowed Avery.

"Not unless it involves gerbils and wine bottles being forcibly inserted into interesting and unconventional bodily orifices!" called Bellatrix drunkenly from the living room.

Snape blinked. "What the FU--"

"She hasn't killed a Mudblood in six days," explained Lucius. "She's starting to come unhinged a bit. Look, let's go back in there. I'm afraid of what she may be doing in my house. I'm sure no one else is troubling themselves to keep an eye on her. I'm afraid I've left my cat in there, and god knows what she might do to it if she's left unsupervised."

**.1.**

Snape, Avery, Yaxley, and Wormtail followed Lucius back into the living room, where Rodolphus, Macnair, and Travers were sitting across the room from Bellatrix and staring at her with varying levels of disgust etched on their faces. The fact that Rodolphus was married to Bellatrix didn't seem to lessen his disgust in the slightest; in fact, it probably increased it. During the few minutes that the others had been in the parlor, she had managed to work her way through half a bottle of Firewhiskey. No one was speaking, unless you counted Bellatrix herself, who was lying on a sofa, twirling her wand in her fingers, and belting the lyrics to _Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic_ by The Police. Everyone else looked a little too scared to speak.

"Amazing, Bellatrix," remarked Snape, upon seeing her. "It seems you've already 'out-drunk' several men twice your size. And it's only..." he looked at his watch, "11:15! Perhaps if you continue on like this, you can engage Wormtail in a rousing vomiting contest by midnight!"

"Shhhhhhut up, Snapes!" she slurred. "You've got no businesses here anyway! Can't imagine" (hic) "why the Dark" (hic) "Lord invitedes you here all the time."

_Ah, Bellatrix-baiting_! thought Snape ecstatically. _This might possibly provide enough amusement to save the evening! But it's almost too easy... The pitiful creature is blind-drunk, after all... it really wouldn't be right... Oh, what the hell! That just makes it better! This is going to be fun_.

"Are we _singing_, Bellatrix?" he asked. "How is it that you have kept your musical talents a secret from your fellow Death Eaters for so very, very many years?"

"Shut your mouth, you greasy little--"

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid your singing leaves quite a bit to be desired," said Snape, his eyes glittering. He glanced around the room for a moment, addressing the others: "Perhaps someone would be so kind as to conjure a bucket for Bellatrix, with which she might endeavor to carry a tune."

Snape jumped aside as she hurled an empty bottle of Firewhiskey at him. The bottle flew through the air and hit Wormtail (whose reflexes left as much to be desired as Bellatrix's singing) right in the crotch. Wormtail let out a yelp and fell to the ground, clutching his now-thoroughly-compromised manhood (as if it wasn't compromised enough to begin with). Seeing this, everyone else quickly backed away from Bellatrix, covering their more... _sensitive _parts as best they could.

Noticing their nervous behavior, Snape's eyes shone with malevolent glee. "Bravo, Bellatrix. Once again, you've managed to demonstrate your beastly masculinity to such a formidable degree that you have effectively castrated a room full of men."

Bellatrix let out a furious scream, leaped from the sofa, and whipped out her wand. Before she could point it at him, however, Snape grabbed his own and thought, _Expelliaramus!_ Her wand flew into his hand, and he stood there, smirking at her as if he'd never seen anything so pathetically amusing in his entire life. She launched herself at him, but she tripped over one of Lucius's many, many ornately-decorated ottomans and momentarily knocked herself unconscious.

Distracted by her alcohol-induced clumsiness, no one realized that the Dark Lord had walked into the room until his high voice said, "Not fighting, are we? I should hate to think that my loyal servants were quarreling amongst themselves."

Immediately, all heads turned and all eyes fell upon the Dark Lord. Wormtail got off the floor and leaped to attention. For a moment, Snape almost wished he'd just let Bellatrix curse him. Sure, he might have died or collapsed, but it couldn't have been much worse than this...

The Dark Lord came strutting proudly across the room. If possible, he'd probably had more to drink than Bellatrix. He was wearing the most disturbing ensemble Snape had ever seen. He had squeezed himself into a turquoise Muggle evening gown (_god only knows where he got it_, thought Snape). He was wearing a pair of lime green pumps that were so long, thin, and sharp they threatened to create a puncture wound in any surface upon which he stood. He wore a fluffy red wig beneath a top hat, and on top of all that, he'd pasted a god-awful, overlarge, fake white rose. Around his neck, he wore a heavily-feathered ladies' boa and a Hawaiian lay. He'd tied a fur around his waist (a real fur, mind you, fox head and all). He had about six gaudy rings on each finger, and it was impossible to guess the number of bracelets he'd put on his wrists.

In short, it was distinctly and _unspeakably _hideous.

"Oh holy hell... The Dark Lord is dressed like a mental incompetent who got loose in a high class thrift shop. ...An extremely _gay _mental incompetent," muttered Macnair.

Bristling at the 'gay' comment, Rodolphus hissed, "Not that there's anything wrong with that!"

"Right, of course, not that there's anything wrong with that," agreed Macnair, eager to correct his _faux pax_.

"He's off his chump," whispered Avery, gawking at the Dark Lord in horror.

"I knew I should have killed myself this morning," mumbled Travers.

"I think I need another drink!" announced Lucius loudly.

Voldemort sauntered up to his Death Eaters, looking very pleased with himself (and more than a little tipsy). It was a miracle he wasn't slurring his words. Snape wondered vaguely whether the ability to drink unimaginable amounts of liquor and then speak one's drunken ramblings clearly was some kind of Dark Art in and of itself. Usually, the one mercy about drunken ramblings is that they're almost impossible for others to understand, due to the significant amount of stuttering and slurring...

Voldemort's voice jarred Snape out of his thoughts: "Well then! What do you think of my attire? I have chosen it especially for this occasion!"

Yaxley gaped at him for a moment before warily responding, "It is... overwhelming, my Lord."

"You... humble us," returned Lucius deferentially.

"It... surpasses words," said Rodolphus carefully.

"Its carefully-crafted and subtly-refined artistry is a credit to your genius, and its elegant grace accentuates the natural eloquence of your infinitely impressive and duly exalted figure, my Lord," said Snape smoothly. Several of the others narrowed their eyes at him, a bit miffed at having to follow up such a spiel (crock-of-shit though it was).

"It compliments your royal bearing," said Avery, trying to emulate Snape as much as possible.

"My eyes are alight with wonder as I gaze upon its beauty," proclaimed Travers proudly, clearly pleased that he had come up with what he believed was a line worthy of Snape. Voldemort didn't seem to notice anything odd, but everyone else looked at Travers as if he'd lost his mind.

"Watch it," murmured Rodolphus, "that's laying it on bit thick..."

"What?" hissed Travers. "Snape's was so full of shit I could smell it from over here, and I don't hear you criticizing him!"

Ignoring the whispered argument, Macnair returned to the topic at hand. "It is a testament to your vision, my Lord," he said dutifully.

And then Wormtail was the only one left to speak. Despite having more time to think up a response than anyone else, he looked ten times as nervous as the rest of them (and not half as capable of coming up with anything good). Searching for something to say, he glanced sideways at Snape and was hit with sudden inspiration: "It... it... it bewitches the mind, ensnares the senses-- OUCH!"

He stopped short, as Snape stomped viciously on his foot. There was no way in hell Snape was going to let _Wormtail _of all people plagiarize one of his favorite speeches. For a moment, Wormtail looked like he might die of fright, but then he relaxed a bit as he realized that Voldemort _still _hadn't registered what had happened. (He really was drunk as hell.) After several seconds of indecision, Wormtail finally managed to squeak out, "It's very, er, _creative_, my Lord!"

Voldemort didn't seem to notice anything amiss, and Snape guessed that the Dark Lord must be far more crocked than he'd originally thought. Despite the inadequacy of Wormtail's compliment, Voldemort looked pleased. He smiled and said, "I'm glad to see you all--"

"Holy shit!" interrupted Bellatrix. Everyone looked over at her. She was still on her hands and knees, and she seemed to have just regained consciousness. She looked at Voldemort in shock for a moment and then blurted out, "You look like you walked out of somebody's nightmare! It's like something Dr. Seuss would come up with if he was on acid!" She burst into hysterical laughter.

"Wasn't he was always on acid?" asked Macnair.

No one paid any attention to Macnair's slight on Dr. Seuss. They were all too busy watching Voldemort, who looked murderous. At first, Snape thought Bellatrix was too drunk to realize her mistake, but suddenly something seemed to click. Her eyes came back into focus, and she saw the look on his face. She abruptly stopped laughing, cowered, and dropped to the ground, kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes. "My Lord! I-- I didn't realize that was you! You look stunning! Or... beautiful! Or... dashing! ...Whichever you're going for..."

Voldemort smiled cruelly and raised his wand, which -- to Snape -- didn't seem half as intimidating as it normally did, which was probably due to the fact that the Dark Lord had tied a frilly pink bow on it. Still, it was apparently pretty scary to Bellatrix (perhaps doubly so because it was pointed directly at her face). Looking between the two of them, Snape felt an urge to laugh. Voldemort was swaying where he stood, and his eyes looked strangely unfocused; he was having quite a bit of trouble keeping the wand pointed in the right direction.

Terrified that he would manage to curse her despite his seeming lack of coordination, Bellatrix rushed to divert his attention elsewhere. "My Lord! Avery didn't get the weed!"

"WHAT?!?!" screamed Voldemort, turning slightly to look at Avery.

"You manipulative little bitch!" snarled Avery. Bellatrix grinned devilishly at him, and he turned back to Voldemort. "My Lord, you must understand! I tried -- it... it wasn't my fault! I--"

Pointing his wand at Avery, Voldemort yelled, "_Crucio_!" Fortunately for Avery -- and rather less fortunately for Bellatrix -- Voldemort was too drunk to aim. A scream of pain echoed throughout the manor, and Bellatrix crumpled to the ground.

"That's a shame," said Snape, smirking. "Shall we return to the living room?"

Cursing someone (nevermind that it happened to be the wrong person) seemed to take the edge off Voldemort's anger, so he led his servants into the living room and sat down in a large armchair near the hearth. After a few moments, Bellatrix dragged herself into the room, retrieved her bottle of Firewhiskey, and plopped down in the chair next to Snape. She glared at him for a second, and he graced her with his finest sneer.

"So!" said Voldemort. "I'm pleased you could all make it. Several of our number were not able to attend. Rest assured, they'll regret it. But that's not important right now. What _is _important is the amount of fun we're going to have tonight!" _Drunk_, thought Snape. _So fucking drunk_.

"What will we be doing, my Lord?" asked Macnair.

"All sorts of things! And we'll have all night in which to do them. I've decided that this will be a spend-the-night!"

"A spend-the-night..." repeated Avery stupidly.

"Yes!" cried Voldemort. "A sleep-over!"

"What a brilliant idea, my Lord" gushed Wormtail, clearly beside himself with excitement.

"It _is _brilliant, isn't it? Now, the first order of business will be to get everyone into their pajamas!" said Voldemort happily.

No one said a word. Snape could swear he could hear crickets chirping. Finally, he worked up the nerve to ask, "What do you mean, my Lord? I don't believe any of us brought night clothes..."

"Of course you didn't! I'll be providing them!" answered Voldemort, beaming.

He reached under his chair and pulled out a small box (the inside of which had clearly been magically enhanced) and began pulling out pair after pair of pajamas. He called out his Death Eaters' names, and they reached forward to take the clothing he'd chosen (or perhaps _made_) for them. Snape couldn't help but notice that some of the patterns on the pajamas looked a little less than dignified: ducks and rocket ships and the like. When his name was called, he hesitated for a moment, and then held out his hand in trepidation... And that's when Voldemort threw him the most offensive pair of pajamas he'd ever laid eyes on. He stared at them, aghast.

Seeing his reaction, Voldemort asked, "What's the matter, Severus?"

"Nothing."

"But you seem less than pleased."

"No, my Lord. I am..." Snape trailed off, apparently unable to bring himself to say that he liked the pajamas. Occlumens or no, there was no way he could pull off that lie.

"But look, Severus, you should be pleased! Look at the pajamas -- tell us, what is the design there?"

"Animals..."

"And what sort of animals, Severus?"

Snape mumbled something inaudible.

"Come now, tell us what's on the pajamas!"

"...Bunnies..." Snape muttered.

"Ah, but what sort of bunnies?"

"Pink ones," he mumbled. "_Pink bunnies_." He made a face that betrayed his overwhelming desire to vomit, and everyone in the circle began laughing. Bellatrix, in particular, took great joy in his humiliation.

"Well, Snape," she sneered, "I had no idea you had such a soft spot for _bunny rabbits_. How have you managed to keep this from your fellow Death Eaters for so very, very many years?"

"Hold your tongue, detestable woman!" he spat.

"Oh and look!" she cried gleefully. "They're _footy pajamas_! HAH! They have little feet! For your wittle footsies!" She collapsed in a fit of giggles.

"Bellatrix," said Snape silkily, "If you do not close that Firewhiskey-vacuum you so stupidly refer to as a mouth, I swear I will wrap a strand of barbed wire around a baseball bat and violate you with it!"

"...Can I--" began Avery.

"No, Avery, you cannot watch!" Snape yelled.

His threat shut Bellatrix up pretty effectively; she could tell that he meant it: he had an especially murderous look on his face, and he had a death grip on his wand. No one present would have been particularly surprised to see a baseball bat, barbed wire, or the Devil himself shoot out of it.

"Alright, everyone," said Voldemort. "Go get changed, and meet back here in five minutes."

**.1. **

Snape retreated to one of Lucius's numerous bathrooms and spent several minutes contemplating suicide. He wondered whether dying hurt. Perhaps he could just walk back in there and tell the Dark Lord to go fornicate himself with his frilly, bow-adorned, gay (not that there's anything wrong with that!) little wand. That would definitely result in death. Not a bad idea, really. _The dying probably wouldn't hurt too much_, he thought, _but the torture that led up to it might be pretty unpleasant_. So, keeping in mind that he could always kill himself later, he braced himself and put on the accursed pink bunny footy pajamas.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a few seconds. It was truly horrible -- bunnies, _pink _bunnies, all over his body. And a nightcap to go with it, which Voldemort had insisted that he wear, and which also, unfortunately (but _predictably_, considering how shitty his life was), had a fuzzy little bunny perched on top of it. In that instant, he realized that everything people said was true: the Dark Lord was the sickest, most twisted, evil wizard who had ever walked the face of the earth. Snape felt slightly nauseated, but decided that if he was going to throw up, he'd rather do it on one of Lucius's posh rugs -- after all, it was Lucius's idea for everyone to become Death Eaters in the first place. After scowling queasily at his reflection for a few more seconds, Snape left the bathroom and went to join the others. He was the last person to return to the living room, and by the time he got there, there was only one place left to sit: right next to Wormtail. Sighing, Snape took his seat.

Without preamble, Voldemort said, "We shall be playing a very high stakes game tonight."

"Which game is that, my Lord?" asked Rodolphus.

"It is a game which has been played for centuries. Lives have been lost, careers destroyed! It is..." Voldemort paused for dramatic effect before saying, "Truth or Dare!"

Snape rolled his eyes and held his breath for a second, waiting to see which imbecile would take this opportunity to scream "DUN-DUN-DUUNNNNN!" And predictably enough...

"DUN-DUN-DUUNNNNNNNNNNN!" cried Wormtail.

No one else said anything, but Voldemort wasn't paying them any attention anyway. "So! I'll start. Yaxley -- truth or dare?"

"What? I--" Yaxley stopped, unsure of what to say. "Er, truth...?"

Nodding, Voldemort said, "Who is your favorite Spice Girl?"

"Uh... excuse me?" He looked around the circle for help, but everyone else merely shrugged. "I... my Lord, I don't know what a Spice Girl is."

"_Crucio_!" cried Voldemort, pointing his wand at Yaxley. Apparently the Dark Lord's aim had improved. Yaxley screamed and slumped forward in his chair, breathing heavily. "Tsk, tsk," said Voldemort softly, "lying to Lord Voldemort..." He then turned to Snape and said, "Severus! Truth or dare?"

"What...? Well, I... er... dare, my Lord...?"

"Very well," Voldemort nodded, clearly pleased. "Severus, I dare you to neuter Yaxley!"

"WHAT!?!?" yelled Snape and Yaxley in unison.

"Go on, get on with it. We don't have all night," chided Voldemort.

"But--but," Snape stuttered, "but, my Lord, don't you think that perhaps there is a better way to--"

"Do you wish to feel the wrath of Lord Voldemort?"

"No, but--"

"Do you know, Severus, what I will do to you if you refuse to neuter Yaxley?"

"Well, I have an idea--"

"Let me give you a hint," said Voldemort smugly. "It starts with 'c' and rhymes with 'Fabio'."

"TOLD YOU!" shouted Lucius triumphantly.

There was a long pause. "For god's sake! No it--"

"Stop!" Avery interrupted. "We've already had this conversation, Snape. You get the point."

"Well, Severus?" said Voldemort in a menacing tone. He tapped his wand impatiently against his palm.

"You can't fricking neuter me! I'm a person, not a DOG!" screamed Yaxley.

"You'd better do it," whispered Lucius to Snape. "If you don't, the Dark Lord will have your ass!"

Snape looked at Voldemort's wand, shook his head resignedly, and turned back to Yaxley: "Sorry, but your balls aren't worth my ass." Yaxley leaped to his feet, but before he could get away, Snape took aim at his privates and yelled, "_Corrumpo_!"

Every man present grimaced and collectively gasped. "Yeesh..." Bellatrix giggled stupidly, then burped.

Yaxley fell to the ground, screaming, writhing, and clutching his crotch. Everyone stared at him in horror. "Oh my god, I can't believe you actually did that!" exclaimed Voldemort.

"What?!" cried Snape. "You made me!"

"You're allowed to turn down a dare, you know!" yelled Voldemort, fighting to be heard over Yaxley's screams. "Oh to hell with this," he said, waving his wand in Yaxley's direction, silencing him.

"Allowed to turn it down...? But you said--"

"Well, I wouldn't _really _have cursed you, you moron! That's not how the game works! You're allowed to turn it down. All that happens when you refuse to do a dare is that everyone else knows you're a pussy."

"Not a pussy..." mumbled Snape sulkily.

"Obviously," said Lucius.

"Uh, should we do something with him?" asked Travers, indicating Yaxley, who had fainted.

"He'll be fine," said Voldemort. "Well, Severus, it's your turn."

"Right. Um. Yes. Well." He was feeling pretty embarrassed. Someone really should have told him he didn't have to do the dare. Now he looked stupid. Not to mention the fact that Yaxley had no balls. Lucius had even _encouraged _him to do it. Lucius... _that's it! _"Alright, Lucius." he said. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth. Definitely truth," returned Lucius. Everyone in the circle breathed a sigh of relief at Lucius's wise choice.

"Very well," said Snape. "You realize, of course, that there is to be no cheating. As it happens, I always carry a small vial of veritaserum, which is especially fortunate tonight. Wouldn't you agree? I think you'll be taking some before I ask my question. We have to be certain of your honesty, you know..."

"Excellent idea!" agreed Voldemort, as Lucius blanched. "Go ahead, Lucius." Everyone watched as Lucius took the vial from Snape and drank a small amount.

"Now then," said Snape with a twisted little grin on his face. "What do you _really _think of the Dark Lord's attire this evening?"

Lucius, clearly horrified, mouthed the word _WHY _in Snape's direction and gave him a pleading look.

"This is what you get for setting me up on that blind date with that gay (not that there's anything wrong with that!) non-English-speaking Muggle fraternity boy back in 1981," hissed Snape. "Answer the question!"

Lucius looked back at Voldemort, took a deep breath and said, "That ungodly ensemble you're wearing is a fashion catastrophe. A fashion-DON'T to the _nth _degree. It makes me want to kill myself. And not just me -- it makes me want to kill everyone in the vicinity. It also makes everyone _else _want to kill themselves. It's the sort of outfit one might pick out after having one's head repeatedly smashed against a street curb for hours on end. I've been trying to avoid looking at you tonight because I die a little on the inside every time I lay eyes on that limp fox head that's hanging from your waist. I would rather use those stilettos to gouge out my own eyes than to look at you for one more second, and I'm pretty sure everyone here would back me up on this if they weren't afraid of dying. You need Queer Eye for the Straight (or not-so-straight) Guy _stat_, and if I have to look at that ludicrous flower on top of your head for one more minute, I'm fairly sure I'm going to throw up on my own rug (which cost 1,250 galleons, by the way, in case anyone was wondering)." He stopped abruptly, eyes wide in terror. "...my Lord..." he finished lamely.

**.1. **

Half an hour later, Lucius was curled up in a fetal position in the corner of the room, still trembling and moaning periodically. The Dark Lord had made extensive use of the Cruciatis Curse (for about 15 minutes), and they'd all been waiting for Lucius to recover ever since. Finally, Voldemort sighed and said, "I don't think he's going to come out of it anytime soon. So I'll pick the next person." He looked around the circle for a moment, then said, "Wormtail! You take Lucius's turn for him. Pick someone and ask them 'truth or dare'."

Wormtail was practically bouncing with excitement. Snape glared at him disdainfully, noting his strong resemblance to a 13-year-old girl who's usually the school reject, but somehow got lucky enough to be invited to a slumber party hosted by the most popular girl in class.

"Okay, Macnair. Truth or dare?" asked Wormtail.

"Dare."

"Okay..." Wormtail thought for a moment, then said (and even Snape wasn't prepared for this level of idiocy), "Macnair, I dare you to go into that closet with the Dark Lord and make out for 10 minutes."

Silence. Crickets chirping again. For about 45 seconds. Snape wondered how long the Dark Lord would torture Wormtail before he killed him. Suddenly, Voldemort broke the silence:

"Which closet?"

Snape gaped at him. "You're not actually going to _do _it are you?!?"

"Honestly, I don't see why not," said Macnair. "Now that I think about it, I've always found the Dark Lord incredibly--"

"Stop. Stop now," said Snape. "Just tell me. Are you honestly going to do this?"

"Well, yes, that's the dare," said Voldemort.

"That's it. I've had enough. Thank you for the wonderful evening," said Snape. "I would love nothing more than to stay, my Lord, but I've just recalled a previous appointment with a family of muggles I promised to kill. And I need to finish laundering Dumbledore's unmentionables. And I need to update my Reasons-To-Give-Harry-Potter-Detention Rolodex. Most importantly, however, I've just remembered that I also need to kill myself before I go to bed tonight, and I'm really very tired, so I don't have a lot of time."

Everyone stared at him as he stood to leave. "But Snape," said Macnair, "can't you do all that later?"

"Perhaps, but were I to do it later, I would have to participate in what is quickly developing into a slash fanfic -- and there's just no way in hell that's going to happen." Snape turned to Voldemort and said, "Thank you again, my Lord. I shall hold the blessed memory of this night close to my heart for years to come, and I have no doubt it will give me the strength to endure countless hardships in the future."

Without another word -- and without bothering to change out of his pink bunny footy pajamas -- he swept from the house, taking care to step on the unconscious (or dead?) house elf on his way out the door. He regretted that the impact of his exit was somewhat lessened by the fact that he'd left his cloak in the living room and, therefore, could not make it billow behind him. All things considered, however, he was extremely fortunate. He hadn't really expected the Dark Lord to allow him to leave like that. He'd probably only gotten away with it because of the "Muggle killing" comment. _Thank god for that moment of inspiration_. Or maybe the Dark Lord was just too caught up thinking about Dumbledore's unmentionables...

Either way, Snape was lucky, and he knew it.

He also knew that he hated everyone _in _and everything _about _his life. He still hadn't ruled out killing himself when he got back to his chambers. He wasn't sure how he was going to resist the temptation, considering the powerful allure of the countless poisons that were so close at hand...

Yes. Almost definitely going to kill himself.

**.1.**

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**If you made it through the whole thing, thanks for reading! Please review!**


	2. Meetings

**101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life **

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**Disclaimer**: All the stupid arguments the characters have are mine... but nothing else is.

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**.2.**

**Chapter 2: Meetings**

As it turned out, Severus Snape didn't kill himself the night of the slumber party.

He returned home that evening and vented his anger in an altogether more satisfying manner: he burned the evil pink bunny footy pajamas to a crisp. Unfortunately (but _pretty predictably_, when he thought about how shitty his life was), they were made out of some foreign muggle material, which really shouldn't have been burned in close quarters. _Synthetic muggle trash_, he thought. He inhaled the fumes for too long before finally disposing of the burning material, so his lungs felt like they were coated in plastic and chemicals. He spent much of the night coughing. _God, muggles are stupid_. For a moment, he experienced a powerful urge to call Lucius and go muggle-hunting.

The important point, however, is that he didn't kill himself. Now, one month later, he was seriously regretting his forbearance.

It was August 28, and as if things weren't bad enough already, he knew he was facing the imminent return of hundreds of blithering idiots to Hogwarts.

**.2. **

He Apparated in front of Number 12, Grimmauld Place and stood outside, staring at the house, for a few moments. He really didn't want to go in there. He'd come to hate Order meetings far more than Death Eater meetings. The Dark Lord was annoying, of course, but for the most part, Snape felt comfortable and at home with everyone else (except maybe Wormtail and Bellatrix), which meant that he didn't always find those gatherings unbearable. Order meetings, on the other hand, were always torturous -- mostly because of Sirius Black. Snape had enjoyed so many wonderful _Snivellus_-free years, and now, thanks to Harry Potter's stupid decision to help Black escape the dementors two years previously, he had to hear that name at least three nights a week, depending on what was going on and how often he needed to report. He took a couple of deep, steadying breaths, and rang the doorbell.

He knew exactly what happened when someone rang the doorbell: Sirius's lovely mother would start screaming and howling an assortment of colorful epithets. Snape enjoyed it, simply because he knew that it drove everyone inside the house crazy. And driving a house full of people nuts was definitely worth the minimal amount of damage Mrs. Black's shrill screams might do to his ears. He smirked slightly at the sound of Sirius's mother screaming: "MUDBLOODS -- FILTH -- SHAME OF MY LOINS -- GOOD LORD WHY THE BLOODY HELL DIDN'T WE USE A CONDOM?!?!"

..._What the hell? _thought Snape. _Did she just say "why didn't we use a condom?_" That was a new one. Did Mrs. Black usually say that? Surely not... Just then, Molly Weasley opened the door and saw Snape standing there with a thoroughly confused expression on his face. Seeing her, he forced his face into a mask of inscrutability and entered the house.

"How many times have we asked you people not to ring the doorbell?!" she fussed.

Sirius's mother was still screaming: "BLOOD TRAITOR -- DISGRACE TO THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS -- FILTH -- I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE SMOKED POT WHEN I WAS PREGNANT WITH YOU!!!"

_Impressive_, Snape thought, _Mrs. Black is in rare form tonight_. Molly pointed her wand at the portrait, and the curtains slammed shut. He followed her into the kitchen, where Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Nymphadora Tonks, and Alastor Moody were already seated around the table.

"Evening, Snivellus!" called Sirius.

"Ah, Black. On my way in, I had the pleasure of listening to your charming mother loudly lamenting your conception. Finally a matter on which the two of us can agree."

"I bet there's plenty you would agree on, you treacherous--"

"That's enough!" snapped Mad-Eye. "No one has time to listen to your preschool bickering. Let's get down to business. Snape, sit down and give your report."

Irritated at being ordered around like a child, Snape refused to sit, but he decided to get the report finished as quickly as possible so that he could leave. Even the Dark Lord's antics -- whatever they might be -- would be less annoying than sitting in the same room with Black.

"Currently," began Snape, "the most immediate concern is the number of Ministry officials who have been placed under the Imperius Curse. Joan Wilson and Robert Liamson are two of the most recent. There are others, but I cannot divulge the identities of those individuals because I have not yet been informed--"

"And why is that?" interrupted Sirius. "You think if you just give us a couple of names, you'll be able to satisfy us _and _keep the majority of your little Death Eater plans a secret at the same time?"

"Hold your tongue, Black, or I will remove it for you," hissed Snape.

"Please, guys," said Lupin. "Just lay off each other."

Sirius ignored him. "So you can't answer my question, huh, Snape?"

"I meant what I said about ripping that insolent tongue of yours out of your head, Black. Apparently you have no regard for your physical safety. Clearly I was mistaken in thinking that it was of the utmost importance to you. I've long assumed that concern for your physical well-being was your primary reason for locking yourself up in this filthy deathtrap you call a house. Now I see that perhaps it isn't cowardice so much as a simple matter of overall worthlessness--"

"Enough of that!" yelled Mad-Eye.

"Oh, I see, Snivelly," said Sirius. "You think _your _job is so difficult? What do you do exactly? What's so hard? You get to hang out with your old school chums all day and--"

"Ah, I understand, Black," said Snape silkily. "You seek to downplay the importance of what I do because you feel that your own labors are unappreciated?"

"I said that's enough, you two!" hollered Mad-Eye.

"Well, never fear," continued Snape, smirking. "I'm sure everyone present is eternally grateful for your steadfast devotion to housecleaning--"

"Shut up, Snivellus! SHUT UP, or I'll rip your slimy--"

"Has that deranged little house elf of yours taught you anything about _service_, Black? Perhaps you could rent yourself out to a rich pureblood family and spend all of your time cleaning their shi--"

"Someone needs to teach _you _something about cleaning, you greasy little twat! I swear to god, I'll--"

"You oughtn't be bitter, Black," interrupted Snape. "Rest assured that I, at least, appreciate your efforts. I am frequently regaled with tales of your fine accomplishments. I understand you and Potter managed to chase off an especially large colony of spiders yesterday. I commend you both on your grueling and noble--"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BOTH OF YOU!" bellowed Mad-Eye.

Snape and Sirius stopped arguing immediately and turned to look at him. Everyone in the room was staring at them as if they'd both lost their minds.

"Now I'm getting pretty sick and tired of this," said Mad-Eye furiously. "And I'm pretty damn sure everyone else would agree with me. Snape, do you have anything else to contribute?"

"Not as yet--" he began.

"Fine," interrupted Mad-Eye. "Then you can just shut your trap for a few minutes and listen to Remus's news."

Snape opened his mouth to reply, but just then, he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. (He'd put it on vibrate because he was sick of hearing _Master of Puppets_ every time the Dark Lord called, which was far too often). He rushed into the next room to answer the call. (There was no way he was going to pull out the phone in the kitchen where Sirius could see what color it was.) He glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Lucius.

"Hello?" said Snape.

"You've got to get over here," said Lucius.

"You'll have to wait. I'm in a meeting. The Dark Lord hasn't summoned me yet."

"Well, it's not the damn Dark Lord that needs you!" cried Lucius. "It's everyone else! We can't understand what he's talking about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Riddles! He's speaking entirely in riddles!"

"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?" he snapped, feeling extremely irritated.

"We need you to come translate! You're better at this kind of stuff than we are."

"It will have to wait, Lucius. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Alright. Fine, then," said Lucius, sounding put out. "We're at the Dark Lord's old house. Just... _hurry_!"

Snape hung up the phone and sighed. _The Dark Lord is speaking in riddles?_ _And of course, no one can deal with it without my help_, he thought. _Great_. This promised to be another award-winningly fun evening. He walked back to the kitchen.

He must have had a strange look on his face, because Black took the opportunity to say, "What's wrong, Snivellus? Does the Dark Lord need you to change his diaper for him?"

"...What?" asked Snape. Black had never had much of a way with words, but that insult didn't even make _sense_.

"Oh, I think you know what I'm talking about, Snape."

"Pardon me," Snape sneered, "but I seem to be slightly confused by your vile, base fecal humor--"

Mad-Eye pointed his wand at Snape and growled, "Shut your mouth. One more word, and I swear I'll blast you to next Tuesday. Just give me a reason."

"Hah!" exclaimed Sirius, grinning.

Mad-Eye turned to him and said, "You too. You're just as bad. Don't think I'll hesitate to knock you out of your seat." Sirius stopped smiling. Mad-Eye looked back and forth between Sirius and Snape, who said nothing, and nodded his approval. "Neither of you is to speak for the remainder of the meeting, unless you're spoken to." He turned to Lupin and said, "Now that that's sorted out, go ahead and give us your report."

Lupin gave his report as briefly as possible, then Tonks gave hers. Snape wasn't really paying attention. After everyone had spoken and asked whatever questions they thought were relevant, Mad-Eye ended the meeting. Molly announced that dinner was ready, and Snape turned to leave.

Before he could escape, however, Sirius called out, "Enjoy your class reunion, Snivelly!"

Snape turned to look at him. "Enjoy your _housecleaning_," he said softly. He glanced at the ground and caught sight of a sliver of onion, which Molly had apparently dropped. Quicker than Sirius could react, Snape whipped out his wand, conjured a mop, and threw it at him. Pointing at the onion, he snapped, "You missed a spot, Black."

"YOU SLEAZY BASTARD, I OUGHT TO--"

But Snape was out the door before Sirius could finish his retort. As the door slammed behind him, Snape could hear Mrs. Black screaming again ("MUDBLOODS -- SHAME OF MY FLESH -- I SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN A HYSTERECTOMY"). Smirking, he stepped into the night.

**.2. **

When Snape arrived at the Riddle house, he was feeling pretty optimistic. The Order meeting had gone fairly well, all things considered -- after all, he had pissed Black off to an extraordinary degree. That had been quite satisfying. So he walked up the path and knocked on the door without hesitation.

Dolohov answered the door and muttered, "Thank god."

He followed Dolohov into the house and surveyed the living room to see who else was there: the Dark Lord, Bellatrix, Lucius, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, and Wormtail. Everyone looked either nervous or agitated. Lucius was brushing his hair like there was no tomorrow, which he did whenever he was distressed, and which seemed to be his only coping mechanism. Bellatrix was cracking her knuckes compulsively. _Manly bitch_, thought Snape. Alecto was studying her fingernails with abnormal interest. Rabastan was tapping his foot so vigorously that he looked as if he'd been hit with the _Tarantallegra _jinx. Rodolphus was crossing and uncrossing his legs every 30 seconds. And Wormtail was squirming so much that he looked like he'd been trying to suppress the need to take a piss for hours. Only Amycus seemed unaffected by the tense atmosphere, which was probably because he was too dumb to know that he _ought _to feel uncomfortable.

Snape strode into the room and knelt before the Dark Lord, kissing the hem of his robes and thinking all the while, _I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life_. The robe-kissing tradition was, possibly, Snape's absolute least favorite thing about being a Death Eater. The feeling of degradation that went along with it wasn't even the main issue; his biggest problem with the ritual was the fact that it was indescribably disgusting because the Dark Lord didn't seem to have the sense (or the common courtesy) to locate a goddamn washing machine.

When Snape stood up and backed away, the Dark Lord said, "Riddle me this, riddle me that, here is my Death Eater who looks like a bat!"

_I'm going to kill myself_, Snape thought. "Yes, my Lord. I apologize for my tardiness. The meeting ran longer than expected." He didn't mention the fact that it was partially his own fault -- after all, things probably would have moved along more quickly if he hadn't wasted so much time taunting Black.

"All the world seeks it, though without it there's bliss," riddled Voldemort.

_Oh god_, thought Snape, _he really sucks at making up riddles. This is even worse than the time he decided that he was only going to speak in rhymes... though not nearly as bad as the three months he spent speaking in limericks._ It took place about 16 years ago, but Snape still vividly remembered the abominable limerick phase.

"Are you referring to _knowledge_, my Lord?" asked Snape.

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I'm not on a chest, my name rhymes with breast."

"The word _yes_? As in, _yes _you desire knowledge, my Lord? You wish for me to give my report?" Snape knew good and goddamn well that 'yes' didn't rhyme with 'breast,' but the Dark Lord had already demonstrated his inability to rhyme during both the accursed 'rhyming phase' and the _'crucio_/Fabio' fiasco a month ago.

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I'm not on a chest, my name rhymes with breast," Voldemort repeated. Snape assumed that this meant 'yes' again.

Fighting down his annoyance, Snape said, "The Order are concentrating their energies on securing the Ministry and Hogwarts from infiltration, my Lord. Dumbledore remains ignorant of the numerous Imperius Curses which have been placed on Ministry officials. He plans to allow the Ministry to play a significant part in the security surrounding Harry Potter."

_What a bunch of horseshit_, he thought. The Dark Lord was academically and magically brilliant, but he still lacked almost all common sense. As usual, he would take this information at face value and go about his business, oblivious to the fact that nothing Snape said was actually of any use. The only person who ever seemed to pick up on this fact was Bellatrix, but she was so crazy that no one bothered to pay her any attention.

"News of this sort is always most welcome, sought with great fervor, hoped for each day."

"So... you're essentially saying that this is _good _news?" asked Snape. _God he sucks at this. I hope I die soon_.

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I'm not on a chest, my name rhymes with breast."

"I'm glad you are pleased. Is there any other information you require of me, my Lord?

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I am not a slut, my name rhymes with ho."

"_No_?" asked Snape. "Very well, my Lord. Is there any other information you wish to impart to us?"

"Only this thing," began Voldemort, "I now go to the place where dreams take flight, the place where you go in the dead of the night."

"You're going to _sleep_?To _bed_?" asked Snape. _Oh no, the stupid bastard is rhyming __**and **__riddling_.

Voldemort nodded. Apparently he'd gotten sick of repeating his 'chest/breast' line. "And this I must ask, you must do as I say; until this hour you must at this house stay: This hour is darkest, the time of bewitching; 'till this hour comes round, don't think of ditching."

"_Midnight_? You need us to stay until midnight?"

"You stay lest I wake before this darkest hour, but if I still slumber when midnight comes round, you may do that thing which you do at a green traffic light."

_Why does god hate me so much?_ Snape asked himself. "_Go_? So... you need us here until midnight, in case you wake up and decide to go muggle-hunting or something? But if you haven't gotten up by midnight, that means you plan to sleep until morning, and we may _go_?"

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I'm not on a chest, my name rhymes with breast." The breast line was back.

Everyone in the room nodded, and Voldemort got up and wandered upstairs. They watched him with bated breath, terrified that he would come back down and give them one more ridiculous riddle. After a few moments, they accepted that he was really gone. They breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Snape walked across the room and flung himself into a chair in the corner. Lucius dragged his chair over to where Snape was sitting and sat down. Snape glared at him. "Are you telling me you honestly couldn't figure that shit out?"

"The riddles were harder earlier! You should have heard him trying to discuss Quidditch! You got off easy," said Lucius.

"Still. You people are pathetic."

"It's not so much that we couldn't have figured it out if we _had _to. It's just that no one could stand to listen to him for long enough to guess what he was trying to say. You're a lot more patient than we are."

"Well, what did you say when he wouldn't stop talking to you?" asked Snape.

"We sort of just nodded or shook our heads. Actually, it got so bad at one point that Wilkerson went upstairs and killed himself."

"He actually _killed _himself?!"

"Yeah. He disappeared for about half an hour, so Rabastan went up to check on him. He found him hanging from a rope, which he'd apparently conjured and tied to a chandelier," said Lucius.

"What started the Dark Lord on this riddling kick, anyway?" asked Snape. "Is it a play on his last name, or something?"

"No. He's been watching _Batman Forever _nonstop for the past four days. He thinks the Riddler is _cool_."

"Oh my god. Joel Schumacher deserves to be killed."

"Of course he does," said Lucius. "He's a muggle."

"Yes, but my point is: _he _directed that trash. He deserves to be killed _twice_," muttered Snape.

"You guys want a drink?" called Rabastan from across the room.

"No, I want seven drinks," replied Lucius.

"Bring me something strong," said Snape.

They sat in silence for awhile as they waited for their drinks to be brought to them. After a few minutes, Rabastan walked up and handed Lucius and Snape their drinks. "What the hell is this?" asked Lucius.

"It's Firewhiskey," said Rabastan.

"I know the damn drink is Firewhiskey. What I want to know is why the hell it's just _one _Firewhiskey. Where are the other six I asked for?"

"I thought you were trying to be funny!" said Rabastan.

"No, it wasn't a fucking joke, you--"

"Well get it yourself, then! What do I look like, a house elf?" Rabastan stalked off across the room.

"I thought I made that request pretty goddamn clear," muttered Lucius.

"Yes, you did a fine job of communicating your desires," Snape said mockingly.

Not noticing Snape's rude tone of voice, Lucius continued, "Oh, listen, I meant to ask -- would you like to come have dinner at the Manor tomorrow night with Narcissa, Draco, and myself?"

"That would be nice. I haven't seen Narcissa in weeks."

"You haven't seen Draco, either."

"No, but he'll be back at school soon, anyway," returned Snape. "Has he had a good summer?"

"Ah..." Lucius hesitated. "He seems to be having some anger management issues. He's been irritable with everyone. I think it's partially because that dratted Mudblood keeps scoring higher than he does on all of his exams. And, of course, there's Potter, who's an even bigger issue. From what I hear, the filthy little muggle-lover spends most of his time parading around school, showing everyone up. Everyone thinks he's so special. It's favoritism, I tell you!"

"You sound like me. It's true, though: Potter's resemblance to his father -- in terms of both appearance and personality -- is uncanny," spat Snape, irritated at the mere mention of the brat.

"Draco's mood has improved somewhat ever since we bought him that dart board and pasted Harry Potter's picture on it."

Snape ignored this comment. He was looking at Bellatrix, who was heading toward them. He groaned as she pulled up a chair and sat down. "Well, Snape," she said. "I see you're the Dark Lord's favorite again -- the _only _one who understands him well enough to solve his riddles."

"Can't you give it a rest for five minutes?" asked Snape, sighing. He watched as Dolohov, Alecto, Amycus, and Wormtail dragged their chairs toward his corner. _So much for peace and quiet_, he thought. Rabastan remained on the other side of the room. He was yapping animatedly at Rodolphus and shooting filthy looks in Lucius's direction. Rodolphus looked exasperated but didn't seem to have the energy to tell his brother to shut up.

"What the hell took you so long getting here, Snape?" asked Bellatrix.

"Oh, I just decided to sit around and diddle myself for 45 minutes after the meeting with the Order ended," he snapped. Bellatrix looked shocked, and Snape realized she had taken him seriously. "Good lord, you miserable, gullible little psychopath! What the hell do you think I did? I already told the Dark Lord -- I sat through an agonizingly long meeting and then came straight here!"

"_Diddled _yourself? What does _that _mean?" asked Wormtail.

"You're such an idiot, Wormtail. He was being sarcastic," said Dolohov.

"Yeah -- a sarcastic, vulgar pervert," interjected Alecto.

"Well, you can just cover your delicate, virgin ears, if I offend you," spat Snape.

"There is _nothing _virginal about Alecto, let me assure you," said Amycus, laughing at his sister.

"This is why I wish I didn't have to work with you--" began Alecto.

"So how is Yaxley faring?" interrupted Snape, looking for a way to change the subject.

"Not so well," said Dolohov.

"How well do you _think _he could be doing, Snape? You shot his balls clean off!" cried Bellatrix.

"Well, where is he?" asked Snape.

"I expect he's wandering through an American ghetto," replied Lucius. "He's developed a pretty nasty crack habit, you see."

"Yeah, good job, Snape. You managed to fuck another one of us over. Do you wake up every morning with the intention of royally screwing every poor soul who unwittingly crosses your path?" asked Bellatrix.

"I was under threat of torture, you beastly, foul-mouthed trollop!" hissed Snape.

"Can you guys not do this right now?" asked Dolohov. "I already have a headache."

"Yeah, tonight was awful," agreed Amycus. "I don't know why I ever signed up for this job."

"Because you wanted to kill Mudblood filth?" suggested Bellatrix.

"No, I think it was the masks. Which are cool. And the Mark. I always wanted a tattoo, and when I found out that some Dark wizard was running around, giving them out for free, I just got caught up in the moment."

Lucius rolled his eyes and pulled out a silver cigarette case. "Anyone else want one?"

Bellatrix, Dolohov, and Amycus held out their hands.

"Oh, I wish you wouldn't," Snape grumbled. "It really aggravates my sinuses."

"With a nose like that," said Amycus as he lit his cigarette, "I bet that's a lot of aggravation!" He guffawed at his own joke. Wormtail laughed, but everyone else glared at Amycus disdainfully. It was well acknowledged that Amycus was painfully stupid. Next to him, Neville Longbottom looked like Dumbledore. To Snape's knowledge, Amycus only knew two spells: _Avada Kedavra _and _Crucio_. The Imperius Curse was beyond his abilities because it required thought.

Lucius ignored the comment and said, "You should really take up smoking, Severus. It would help alleviate some of your stress."

"I already told you: I'm allergic to it."

"You know what else would alleviate your stress? Getting laid," said Bellatrix scathingly. "Unfortunately, since no one in their right mind would ever sleep with you, you'd do better to go ahead and pick up smoking. Or maybe you could go looking for someone who _isn't _in their right mind. Try St. Mungo's. I think Alice Longbottom is still there. ...Or maybe you'd prefer Frank?"

"I wish I had a time-turner, Bellatrix," said Snape. "If I ever get my hands on one, I'm going to journey to the past and try to convince your mother to abort you. And if she refuses, I'm going to push her down a flight of stairs in her ninth month."

Bellatrix scowled. "Someone needs to put you in your place, you smug, pretentious bastard."

"And do you think it will be you, Bellatrix? Do you think you could hold your own for even five minutes in a duel with me? I think not. You might not be as easy to castrate as Yaxley, but I'm sure I could do some serious damage to your reproductive organs if I had a mind to try."

Dolohov snorted. "That'd be a real tragedy. If you neutered her, she wouldn't have any reason to go around trying to snog the Dark Lord behind Rodolphus's back!"

"You can't neuter a woman," Alecto pointed out. "You spay women."

"How dare you imply such a thing, you--" began Bellatrix.

"Oh _please_. Don't pretend you're not obsessed with him. Everyone knows," said Dolohov.

"I would never betray Rodolphus!" cried Bellatrix indignantly.

"You'd have to if the Dark Lord told you to," said Wormtail.

"Yes, well so would you, you grubby little wanker!" yelled Bellatrix.

Wormtail blushed, and everyone laughed -- even Snape. "Has Bellatrix touched a nerve, Wormtail? Have you been secretly lusting after our Lord? Naughty, naughty..."

Bellatrix howled with laughter. "Come on, Wormtail! Tell us your innermost fantasies!"

"I'm not sure I'm prepared to hear the intricacies of Wormtail's sexual inclinations toward the Dark Lord," mused Snape.

Wormtail's cheeks had turned a blotchy red, and Bellatrix laughed even harder. "Ah, don't be such a spoilsport, Snape! Tell us, Wormtail, what sort of sordid activities do you engage in at night whilst you think about the Dark Lord?"

"Ugh. Quit that, Bellatrix. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit," said Lucius. The others laughed hysterically.

"Twisted though your mind is, Bellatrix, I'm impressed with your capacity for imagination," said Snape. Apparently, the only time he and Bellatrix could get along was when they were making fun of someone else -- preferably Wormtail.

"I'm going to bed!" yelled Wormtail.

"What, you're sleeping here?" asked Amycus.

"Naturally he's sleeping here," said Bellatrix gleefully. "The proximity of the Dark Lord makes his fantasies seem so much more realistic!"

"No! I'll leave at midnight, just like everyone else! I'm just going into another room to get away from YOU!"

"Heh. I don't think he appreciates your comments, Bellatrix," said Alecto.

"Ah, I'm sure it isn't Bellatrix in _particular _he's angry with," said Snape. "He's merely frustrated and displeased with his _situation_. Unrequited love can be quite maddening, I'm sure."

"HAH! Get thee to a nunnery!!!" cried Bellatrix. Though Snape and Alecto were probably the only ones who picked up on Bellatrix's allusion to Shakespeare, everyone laughed uproariously.

"Hmph! I don't need this!" screamed Wormtail, and he rushed out of the room, pursued by the sound of jeering laughter.

"When you get upstairs, give the Dark Lord a kiss from me!" mocked Bellatrix.

As the hilarity subsided, Snape realized that he was exhausted. The cigarette smoke was hurting his eyes, too. As the others wiped away tears of laughter, he asked, "Does anyone know what time it is?"

"10:30," replied Lucius.

"I believe I'll go home before I start having too much fun," said Snape.

"Go home? The Dark Lord said you had to stay until midnight," said Dolohov.

"Well, if he wakes up, tell him I'm going by Pacific time."

No one got the joke. He sighed and added, "Should the Dark Lord wake, please inform him that I was summoned by Dumbledore and had to leave."

"But you haven't been summoned," Amycus pointed out.

"Thank you, Amycus, I'm aware of that."

"I'm not sure telling him that you had to go visit Dumbledore is going to be a good enough excuse," said Alecto.

"Very well," said Snape. "Tell him that I had to go kill a truck-full of puppies. Or that I felt the need to make prank phone calls to the Muggle prime minister. It really doesn't make any difference to me. Goodnight."

And with that, he got up and walked out the door, nodding at Rabastan (who was still sulking on the other side of the room) as he went. Rodolphus had fallen asleep, so Snape didn't bother to acknowledge him.

He walked to the street, turned on the spot, and apparated just outside the gates of Hogwarts. _All in all_, he thought cheerfully, _the night wasn't nearly as dreadful as it could have been. ...Well except for the riddling, of course_. Maybe now he could go home and enjoy a bit of peace. He was just beginning to feel a bit more optimistic about his lot in life, when he suddenly remembered that Harry Potter would be returning to school within the next few days. _Dammit_. _I hate __**everything**_.

**.2.**

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**Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	3. Dinner With The Malfoys

**101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life **

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Please forgive the few paragraphs that are (comparatively) "serious" (it's not really that they're _serious_: they're just not intended to be particularly humorous). It's just that -- since Slytherins are so prevalent in this story -- I felt the need to portray Slytherin as_ I've _always seen it. And yes, I know the "Snape is Draco's godfather" thing is used a lot. But I've always liked that idea, so I'm adopting it. 

Chapters 3 and 4 were originally intended to be _one _chapter, but as I got into it, I realized that it would be _ridiculously_ long. So I just found a decent stopping point and split it. This one ends on sort of a "to be continued" note. Please read and review!

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing you recognize. (But for some reason, I really _wish_ I owned Bellatrix.)

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**.3. **

**Chapter 3: Dinner With The Malfoys**

It was August 29, and Severus Snape was in a very unpleasant mood. He had a good reason, though. After he'd returned from his meeting with the Death Eaters the previous evening, he had put aside his best robes to be washed because he knew he had to have dinner with the Malfoys the following night. He always felt the need to wear his nicest robes when he dined with Lucius's family. The Malfoys just had _so _much money, and Snape felt more comfortable when he was wearing something relatively expensive. He'd gone to bed assuming that his robes would be ready the next morning.

When he woke up, he discovered that his robes had indeed been washed; unfortunately, they had also mysteriously turned _lavender _at some point in the night. Apparently, he'd pissed off a house elf somewhere along the line. He wondered whether one of Dingleberry's relatives worked in the castle. Furious, he spent the better part of an hour trying to change the robes back to their original black. He finally accepted the fact that they'd been turned lavender by some sort of weird elf magic he didn't understand. He summoned the only elf whose name he knew (Rimjob) to his chambers. After yelling at Rimjob for approximately 15 minutes, he warned the elf that if his robes weren't fixed within the next hour, he'd "staple the little bastard's his dick to his forehead." Snape knew it was an empty threat, but the elf didn't.

Now he was sitting morosely in his office, thinking about how much he hated his life, and making a very morbid list:

Possible Ways To Kill Myself

1) Jump off the astronomy tower.

2) Listen to Sybill Trelawney talk about her Inner Eye for three hours. (_That would literally bore me to death_.)

3) Stand next to Neville Longbottom during every Potions class for a month. (_Chances are, Longbottom's perpetual ineptitude will cause a fatal explosion within that time period_.)

4) Admit to the Dark Lord that I hated the movies _Boogie Nights_, _Mean Girls_, and _Pootie Tang_. (_Actually, he might not kill me for that -- he might just torture me by making me watch them over and over: a fate worse than death_.)

5) Walk in on Minerva McGonagall in the shower. (_If I don't die of fright, she'll undoubtedly kill me anyway._)

6) Steal Dumbledore's stash of lemon drops. (_He becomes very violent when he goes into sugar withdrawal_.)

7) Eat Hagrid's cooking every day for a week. (_My internal organs would probably turn into cement_.)

8) Offer to give a violent, militant lesbian (_cough__**MadamHooch**__cough_) a sensual massage.

9) Give a hippogriff "the finger".

10) Get engaged to a muggle-born and invite Lucius to the wedding.

11) Drink any potion brewed by Neville Longbottom.

He was distracted by the sound of the phone ringing (he'd taken it off vibrate so that he could take it out of his pocket -- he'd decided that, as long as he was in his private quarters, he'd rather let it ring than have to suffer with the knowledge that something _pink _was concealed inside his robes). He cringed as _Mmm-Bop _by Hanson started playing. _Well, that's Lucius's ringtone_, he thought. Snape wondered whether a worse song had ever been written. It wasn't that Lucius really liked Hanson's _music_. It was that he liked their fucking _hair_. _God, Lucius is stupid_. _Why are all my friends so goddamn lame? _He grabbed the phone and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Severus! You're still planning to come to dinner tonight, aren't you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Excellent! Be here at 6:30. We'll be serving dinner around 7:00."

"I'll be there," said Snape.

"And get ready to have fun! I have a surprise for you!"

"What is it?"

"It's a surprise!" said Lucius. "You'll find out when you get here. See you tonight!"

Snape hung up the phone. _A surprise? _he thought. _But I hate surprises -- surely Lucius knows that?_ Of course, the fact that Lucius would ignore his hatred of surprises and spring something like this on him _anyway _was pretty predictable. _No one gives a flying fuck what I think_. As he was brooding over this news and wondering how bad the surprise might be, Rimjob knocked on the door.

"Enter," Snape called. The house elf came in, and Snape glared at him.

"Rimjob is sorry about sir's robes. Rimjob is having fixed them. Rimjob is--"

"Fine!" Snape growled. "Fine, just leave them here and get out. My head hurts, and if I have to sit here and listen to you butcher the English language for one more second, my head will explode!"

The elf bowed obsequiously and left.

**.3.**

Snape hated traveling by Floo Powder -- it was too messy for his taste -- so at 6:15, he left the dungeons and made his way toward the Hogwarts gates, outside of which he could apparate. He was in a decent mood and had almost forgotten about the dreaded surprise. He was pleased at the prospect of dining with the Malfoys. He was very fond of all of them. Despite the age difference, he had been close to Lucius at school -- especially during Lucius's 7th (Snape's 3rd) year. Lucius was famous for using and manipulating anyone he didn't respect, and -- since Snape was four years his junior -- the only interaction they really had during Snape's first year consisted of Snape running errands for him. That changed the following year, however, when Lucius discovered Snape's talent for creating his own spells. He couldn't help but feel impressed by a second year who had that kind of skill. Lucius also respected his proficiency with potions, because even as a 12-year-old, Snape was already especially adept at brewing poisons. So a friendship developed, and that friendship had proven extremely valuable to Snape. Being friends with Lucius meant becoming friends with all _his _friends, who were always quite important and extremely well-placed within social circles. It was thanks to Lucius that Snape had gotten to know people like Narcissa and Bellatrix.

Actually, the sad thing about the current enmity between Snape and Bellatrix was that they used to be pretty good friends. She'd always been a little crazy, but she was nevertheless a very likable person back when they were in school. She was bold, talented, sarcastic, proud, and charismatic -- all traits which Snape valued highly. He found her easy to talk to because she shared his propensity toward sarcasm and acerbic "banter". As a young boy, he had looked up to her because of her ability to manipulate and utilize the emotions of others: she was exciting to be with, and she inspired everyone around her to share her passions. Unfortunately, her eccentricities and radical beliefs had evolved into full-blown psychosis by the time she became a Death Eater. Her obsession with the Dark Lord was unsettling and -- for some unknown reason -- _intimidating_. The knowledge that Snape had spent so many years under Dumbledore's nose incensed her, and she was unable to get past her suspicion that he was disloyal to the Dark Lord. Not that her suspicions weren't justified, of course.

Her sister Narcissa was altogether different. She was a snob and a bigot, but in many ways, she was uncommonly kind (for a Slytherin, anyway). She had treated Snape like a little brother when they were in school together, and she'd grown fonder and fonder of him over the years (probably because she appreciated the diligent attention and preferential treatment he bestowed upon Draco). It was a little-known fact (even Dumbledore was unaware) that Lucius and Narcissa had named Snape Draco's godfather. As a result, he probably cared more about Draco than he did about any other living person. In many ways, he was his father in miniature, but Snape suspected that there was a lot of Narcissa mixed in there as well, which Draco hid very effectively. Snape had a feeling that Draco lacked his father's insatiable bloodlust and capacity for cruelty.

Snape was especially grateful to Lucius because he had never openly looked down on him because of his blood status. They'd never spoken of it, but Snape was sure Lucius knew he was a halfblood; people like the Malfoys always kept track of that sort of thing. But he respected Snape talents enough to overlook that particular shortcoming, and he ensured that everyone else overlooked it, too. No one mentioned it. Ever. And that meant a lot to Snape. It's not that he was horribly ashamed by it -- or not anymore, really -- but it would make his life much more unpleasant if his former Housemates chose to demean him because of his blood status.

Slytherin was a fascinating House, really. It was far more complex than the others, and it was certainly the most misunderstood. Outsiders saw Slytherins as cold, uncaring, cruel, and -- when it came down to it -- _cowardly_. It was a commonly held misconception that Slytherins didn't really care about each other -- that they were inherently disloyal and needed little incentive to stab their friends in the back. This was not strictly true. It wasn't that Slytherins didn't care about each other; rather, it was that they tended to care more about themselves _personally _than other people. They were ambitious, clever, proud, and manipulative, but most of them didn't actually go around trying to sabotage one another. In some ways, they were closer to each other than the members of other Houses, simply because they _had _to be. Most of them were pureblood (and intended to keep it that way in future generations), which meant that they invariably married within their House. They seldom (if ever) had friends from other Houses, so they drew together and formed a tightly-knit little group, which paid less regard to age than the other Houses. There was more diversity within Slytherin than most people realized, and Snape was proud to be its Head. The prejudice that the rest of Hogwarts had against his students annoyed him immensely, and he felt that whatever "favoritism" he might show toward his students was completely justified: his favoritism helped make up for everyone else's prejudice. The idea that Slytherins were all intrinsically _bad_ was unrealistic -- after all, how could so many students live and thrive in a House if they felt they had no true friends? It would be impossible. Unfortunately, most of the Hogwarts populace were too stupid to realize this.

Snape had been so lost in his thoughts that he was slightly surprised to see he'd arrived at the gates. He opened them, stepped outside, and disapparated.

**.3.**

He arrived at Malfoy Manor at exactly 6:30 and rang the doorbell. A house elf promptly answered the door, but it wasn't Dingleberry.

"Who are you?" Snape asked.

"I is being Douchebag, sir," said the elf. "May Douchebag be taking your cloak?"

Snape cringed inwardly at the elf's grammar, threw him the cloak, and followed him into the house. Lucius came to meet him. "I'm so glad you're here, Severus! Cissy and Draco will be so pleased to see you!"

"Where's your other house elf?" asked Snape.

Lucius scowled. "I had _hoped _that Avery's curse had just knocked the little wretch unconscious, but as it turns out, it seems to have killed him. So I had to get another."

"How unfortunate."

"Yes. Well. Come on in, and Douchebag will bring us some wine."

Snape automatically headed toward the living room but stopped dead when he got there. "Lucius...?" he said tentatively. "What happened here?"

"The goddamn Dark Lord happened here," snarled Lucius. "He turned my fucking living room into Pee-Wee's goddamn Playhouse! Last weekend!"

"_Why_?" Snape asked, gazing at the gaudy decorations with a bemused expression on his face.

"Because he's obsessed with it! I told you about the mess with Paul Reubens!"

"Are you going to leave it like this?"

"No," replied Lucius. "Absolutely not. I'm going to leave it for another month and hope the Dark Lord forgets about it. After a month, it's gone -- no matter what. I'll take the risk of pissing the Dark Lord off. I'd rather die than have to look at this every day for the rest of my life."

"I admire your courage, I suppose..."

"Courage? Are you shitting me?! I'm losing my mind here, Severus! What would you do?"

Snape looked around at the hideous decor. "Kill myself," he said firmly.

At that moment, Narcissa entered the room. "Severus!" She rushed over and hugged him. "I'm delighted to see you!"

"Likewise..." he said, trailing off -- he was still a bit distracted by the Playhouse decorations. "Are we... going to sit in here?" he asked fearfully.

"Heavens, no!" said Narcissa. "We avoid this room now. We're going to the drawing room."

Lucius and Snape followed her into the drawing room and sat down. Douchebag brought the wine and then scurried away, eager to escape the presence of his master. The Malfoys weren't exactly known for their kindness toward house elves.

"So," said Snape, addressing Lucius, "what's the big surprise?"

"Oh nothing much," replied Lucius, his eyes gleaming. "You'll see after dinner."

Snape was just about to insist that Lucius go ahead and tell him, when a bloodcurdling scream issued from somewhere in the house. He jumped to his feet and whipped out his wand. "What the hell is that?!"

"Calm down," said Lucius. "It's just Yaxley. We've got him locked in the basement -- he's detoxing."

"Detoxing?"

"I told you last night about his crack addiction."

"And you've already found him?" asked Snape, impressed.

"Dolohov found him this morning. He showed up at Gringotts, shaking like a leaf, cursing up a storm, babbling incoherently at about 100 miles per hour, and demanding to be let into his vault. He said he'd _lost _his key -- it's made of gold, you know, and he'd already sold it for drugs. Dolohov just happened to be at the bank at the same time."

"I can't help feeling a bit responsible for this," said Snape.

"Oh, it's alright, Severus," said Narcissa sweetly, "don't dwell on it. Lucius told me what happened. It really wasn't your fault."

"I still wish you hadn't decided to screw me over afterward, though," said Lucius coldly. "If you wanted to get back at me, you could have done it personally. But _nooo_, you decided you'd hand me over to the Dark Lord..."

"Yes, but now we're even."

Just then, Draco came rushing into the room. Snape was grateful for the distraction.

"Guess what!" Draco said, addressing Snape. "I'm a prefect!"

"Excellent, Draco!"

"Yeah, I can't wait to get Potter and his friends!"

"Now, now, Draco. You mustn't be unfair," said Lucius, smirking into his wine glass.

"Oh, of course not!" said Draco sarcastically. "I wouldn't _dream _of abusing my power."

Snape smiled. "As your Head of House, I want you to know that I expect to see flagrant abuses of authority whenever possible. I will be disappointed with anything less."

"Don't worry," Draco assured him, grinning. "Oh, I almost forgot! I made a list of things you can use to take points from Gryffindor! Here," he said, pulling a crumpled sheet of parchment out of his robes and handing it to Snape, who looked at the list and smirked.

Totally Unfair Things to Use as Excuses to Dock Points from Gryffindor

1) Smiling in class. (10 points)

2) Sneezing. (5 points)

3) Sneezing into a cauldron. (20 points)

4) Blinking too often. (5 points)

5) Not blinking often enough. (5 points)

6) Looking confused. (10 points)

7) Being Neville Longbottom. (10 points)

8) Being a red-headed blood traitor. (20 points)

9) Being a Mudblood know-it-all. (50 points)

10) Being Harry Potter. (**Infinity points**)

11) Breathing loudly. (5 points)

12) Speaking to a Slytherin. (15 points)

13) Shooting dirty looks in a Slytherin's direction. (20 points)

14) Shooting dirty looks in the Professor's direction. (50 points)

15) Laughing for any reason. (15 points)

16) Laughing at a joke that is offensive to Slytherins. (25 points)

17) Making too much noise with a quill when writing. (5 points)

18) Coughing. (5 points)

19) Coughing loudly. (10 points)

20) Looking at the Professor. (2 points)

Snape snorted in amusement. "Draco, I'm afraid that even _I _might find myself incapable of justifying these to the Headmaster, were he to ask."

"I thought you'd say that," said Draco, still grinning, "but I figured I might as well give it a shot. Maybe it'll give you some ideas."

"Indeed... I rather like the one about not blinking often enough," said Snape, still smirking. "And also the one about breathing too loudly. I promise I will take this list into consideration. Perhaps, if I make a few slight adjustments, I shall find a way to -- ah -- _incorporate _some of these items into my Reasons-To-Take-Points-From-Gryffindor Rolodex. I could probably make a case for docking points due to loud breathing by insisting that it disturbs the atmospheric conditions of the classroom and impairs the other students' abilities to concentrate."

Draco beamed happily at him. Everyone looked up in surprise when the doorbell rang. "Who else is coming?"

Lucius frowned. "No one that I know of."

A few seconds later, Bellatrix came striding into the room. "Bella!" cried Narcissa, "You weren't supposed to come until 8:30!"

"Relax, Cissy. I won't make any trouble. I came early because haven't had dinner yet. I'm starving!"

"What happens at 8:30?" asked Snape.

"Nothing," said Lucius, flashing a filthy look at Bellatrix. "She was just going to come have drinks with us."

Draco turned back to Snape. "So what's your goal this year? How many points do you think you can take from Gryffindor?"

"I'm not sure... what was my goal last year?"

"It was only 200, but you took 215."

"Hmmm," mused Snape. "I always seek to _surpass _myself, so I think I'll set my sights at 250."

Draco beamed at him again, but Bellatrix snorted. Snape was just about to ask her what her goddamn problem was, but Douchebag came in and announced that dinner was prepared. Everyone got up and traipsed into the dining room

**.3. **

As they sat down for dinner, Lucius's cat ran into the room and leaped up on the table.

"Madame Muffinton!" cried Lucius affectionately. The cat immediately trotted over to where Lucius was sitting and laid down on the table. Snape sneered in the cat's direction but said nothing. He didn't like cats (and he certainly didn't like eating at the same table with one), but he knew better than to insult Madame Muffinton in front of his friend. Lucius was obsessed with the stupid beast. Maybe it was because the cat was _just _like he was: haughty, perfectly groomed, expensively clad (the damn animal wore a collar that cost 1,025 galleons), temperamental, sporadically violent, and spoiled rotten. She even had Lucius's cold gray eyes.

Draco also looked at the cat distastefully. Madame Muffinton liked Lucius and _no one _else. Not even Narcissa. And the vicious beast was cruel to anyone it didn't like (i.e., _everyone_). Draco caught sight of the disgusted look on Snape's face, and their eyes met. They snorted with laughter, and when Lucius looked at them curiously, they both pretended to sneeze.

"You know, Lucius," said Snape, "that cat looks rather like Professor McGonagall's animagus."

Lucius scowled. "I assure you, Severus -- Minerva McGonagall is not perched on my dining room table at this moment."

"So you're implying that she's been perched there at _some _point in the past?" asked Bellatrix coyly.

Draco snickered, but Lucius chose to ignore the comment. A few seconds later, Snape heard wings flapping and saw Draco's owl flying toward them. He landed on a fancy candelabra that was sitting in the middle of the table.

"Get that nasty bird off my table, boy!" yelled Lucius.

"Why can't he stay?" asked Draco. "You let that mangy cat sit on the table!"

"Yes, well, this _mangy cat _doesn't leave droppings all over my house."

"No," answered Draco, with an insolent look on his face, "he just shits in a box _right next to your bed_!"

"Get rid of the goddamn bird!"

Draco sighed and spoke to the owl: "Go on, Flavor Flav. Go back upstairs." The owl hooted dolefully and took off, shitting on one of Lucius's dining room chairs on its way out."

"STUPID FUCKING OWL!!" bellowed Lucius. "I just had that chair reupholstered. Douchebag! Clean that up!"

The elf rushed into the room, mopped up the mess, and retreated to the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned, carrying the first course. He served them and then scurried away as fast as he could.

Part of the first course was caviar. Draco stared at it with a look of revulsion on his face. "Dad, you _do _realize that caviar tastes like shit, don't you?"

"How can you say that? Do you realize how expensive it is?!" exclaimed Lucius.

"Not everything that's expensive is good," muttered Draco, pushing the food around on his plate.

"Expensive is the _definition _of good, so you can just get those filthy thoughts out of your mind and those dirty words out of your mouth!" shouted Lucius. Then he pointed his wand at Draco's mouth and said, "_Scourgify_!"

Snape grimaced as he watched Draco choke and spit up soap suds. Snape knew exactly how uncomfortable that feeling was -- James Potter (_may he rot in the ninth circle of Dante's unholy hell_) had used the same spell on him in his fifth year at Hogwarts.

"Oh, Lucius! I wish you wouldn't!" cried Narcissa. Bellatrix and Snape said nothing. They weren't in the mood to participate in a family squabble.

"He'll be fine, Cissy," Lucius responded unconcernedly. Draco finished his coughing fit and glared at his father mutinously, but he remained silent throughout the rest of the meal, which passed uneventfully.

**.3.**

Afterward, they went back to the drawing room for coffee, and Bellatrix decided that the time was right to torment Snape. (_Again_.) "So," she said. "How is your _master_?"

"Excuse me?"

"Dumbledore. You _are _his little servant, aren't you?"

"You shouldn't attempt to discuss matters you don't understand," said Snape in a dangerously soft voice.

"I understand plenty. In fact, I'm the _only _one who understands. You can't fool me, you greasy little--"

"Doesn't anyone _ever _tire of the 'greasy' insults?" he interrupted. "Why do you suppose I look the way I do? I stand over a fuming cauldron all day!"

"Yeah, right. I think you're just afraid of the shower. What's your boggart, Snape? A bottle of shampoo?"

"No," Snape growled, "actually, my boggart is a photograph of you in a thong bikini."

"Severus... Bella... don't do this again," pleaded Narcissa. "It's so annoying."

"Hah!" continued Bellatrix, heedless of Narcissa's plea. "As poor as your sex life is, I imagine you'd be excited to see a fucking _house elf _in a thong!"

"Yes, well, I'm sure gazing at a scantily clad house elf would be far less offensive than looking at _you_," Snape said waspishly.

Draco was grinning and looking back and forth between Snape and Bellatrix with a wicked gleam in his eye. He was amused to see his aunt and godfather at each others' throats, and he wondered which one of them would prevail.

"I can't say I'm surprised, though, Snape. I bet seeing a woman in a thong really _would _be terrifying to someone as flamboyantly homosexual as you," sneered Bellatrix.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that!" snapped Lucius.

"Of course not," backtracked Bellatrix. "I didn't mean... that is, I wasn't trying to say... Well... DAMMIT, don't generalize what I just said to _everyone_! It's only applicable to Snape!" She looked a bit flustered.

"You seem irritable, Bellatrix," said Snape nonchalantly. "Perhaps if Rodolphus would consent to _clean your pipes _more often, you'd be less bitter."

"Maybe if _you _had a chance to clean someone'spipes you'd be less of an uptight bastard," replied Bellatrix.

"Oh, come off it, you two," snapped Lucius.

"That's what she said!" crowed Draco.

Snape and Lucius snorted, but Narcissa frowned and said, "Don't be vulgar, Draco!"

"Did you hear me, Snape?" continued Bellatrix. "Perhaps if you made your way down Knockturn Alley, you could find a hag who'd be desperate enough to sleep with you."

"Why on earth would I venture to Knockturn Alley? All the women down there look like _you_."

"Please stop," begged Narcissa wearily.

"You know," continued Bellatrix, ignoring her sister, "you've always struck me as a very _repressed _person."

"Keep talking like this, Bellatrix, and I'll bind your hands and feet and show you how _very _wrong you are."

"That's what she said!" yelled Draco. Bellatrix glowered at him.

"Oh, please. You're not fooling anyone, Snape. Tell me, have you ever even come _close _to penetration?"

"That's what she said!"

Ignoring Draco, who didn't seem to understand the concept of _overkill_, Snape responded, "If you don't curb your incessant sniping within the next few seconds, I'm going to penetrate you with a crowbar."

"That's what she said!"

"You wouldn't dare come near me!" cried Bellatrix, horrified.

"That's what she said!" shouted Draco ecstatically. "Get it? Wouldn't _come _near her? You get it?"

"You're absolutely correct, Bellatrix," said Snape silkily. "No one in their right mind would come near you -- after all, I don't think St. Mungo's has yet discovered a cure for genital warts or gonorrhea."

"That's what she said!"

"Stop it, Draco!" scolded Narcissa. "That didn't even make sense."

"Ah, resorting to STD jibes, are we, Snape?" said Bellatrix scathingly. "How frightfully immature. You sound like a child. Tell me, how much of a _man _are you?"

"Open your mouth and I'll show you," hissed Snape.

"THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!" screamed Draco, cackling.

"GODDAMMIT DRACO, GO TO YOUR ROOM!!!!" bellowed Lucius. "If I have to hear that stupid line one more time, I think I might kill myself."

"But I don't want to--" began Draco.

"NO!" yelled Lucius. "Go get in bed!"

"HAH! That's _definitely _what she said!" exclaimed Draco.

"_**UPSTAIRS -- NOW!!!!! **_Get out or I will murder everyone in this room (except for Madame Muffinton, of course) and then _Avada Kedavra _myself in the goddamn head!!!"

Finally registering how angry his father was, Draco turned tail and fled the room.

Bellatrix and Snape might have continued their argument at that point, but suddenly Narcissa gasped and leaped from her seat. "Lucius! Do something!" she cried, pointing at the floor. "It's a rat!" Snape glanced over to where Narcissa was pointing and saw that there was, indeed, quite a sizeable rat sitting in the corner of the room.

"HOLY FUCK!" shrieked Lucius in an abnormally high-pitched voice, as he jumped up onto the coffee table. "Get rid of it, get rid of it!"

"Lucius..." said Snape slowly, "are you frightened of rats?"

"Yes, oh my GOD, someone kill it!"

Bellatrix frowned in confusion. "How in god's name did you manage to survive seven years at Hogwarts if you're afraid of rats? We worked with rats all the time!"

"Well _I _didn't!" protested Lucius. "Whenever we used rats, I always had someone else handle it for me! Ugh! It's hideous! Huge and hairy and _hideous_!"

"Lucius! You shouldn't talk about Snape like that," chided Bellatrix sarcastically.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a little bitch, Lucius." He was extremely glad that there weren't any _courageous _Gryffindors present to witness this embarrassing incident. Slytherin House would never live it down.

"Well, _someone _get it! Cissy, get it!"

"No!" she squealed. "You're the man of the house!"

"Bellatrix, kill it!" cried Lucius.

"Hell no," she replied. "That fucking rat isn't my problem. I'm finishing my coffee."

"Severus, get it!" pleaded Lucius.

"No, I'm afraid that won't be possible," said Snape, smirking. "I'm having _far _too much fun watching you hop around, squealing like an 11-year-old girl."

Lucius appealed to the last individual in the room: "Madame Muffinton! GET IT!"

Madame Muffinton walked up to the rat and looked at it warily. She raised her paw hesitantly, preparing to swipe at it, when suddenly the rat let out a hissing squeal and bared its teeth menacingly. Madame Muffinton emitted a shrieking, terrified meow and sprinted from the room, skidding on the marble floor as she went. _That cat really is extraordinarily like Lucius_, thought Snape. Narcissa fainted, but luckily, she landed on the sofa.

"OH **GOD**!" Lucius screamed in horror. The hissing sound the rat had made was too much for him. Bellatrix and Snape glanced at each other with amusement in their eyes. The rat walked a few steps toward them, stared straight up at Lucius, and hissed loudly. "OH, JESUS GOD, SOMEBODY MAKE IT STOP!" Lucius was writhing, trembling, and jumping up and down so much that he was practically dancing. He looked frantically around the room and called, "DOUCHEBAG! Get your ass in here and kill the rat!!!"

Douchebag ran into the room. A chase ensued. It took the elf almost five minutes to catch the hissing rat. Bellatrix and Snape howled with laughter as they watched Douchebag pursue the crafty rodent. At one point, it headed toward the coffee table Lucius was standing on, and he literally _screamed_. If Snape hadn't known better, he would have thought it was the scream of a teenage girl.

After the rat had been vanquished, Lucius couldn't bring himself to step down from the table for about 10 minutes. Snape finally persuaded him to come down by insisting that his hair was a mess. The idea that he might have a hair out of place was terribly alarming to Lucius, so he jumped down from the table and raced away to find a mirror. He returned to the room a few minutes later, cursing at Snape because he had lied about his hair being screwed up, but everyone else was thankful -- god knows how long it might have taken Lucius to come down if he hadn't had any real incentive.

Lucius and Narcissa had _almost _regained their composure, when the doorbell rang. Lucius jumped a little, but he managed not to cry out. Bellatrix's eyes lit up. "That'll be the others!"

"What others?" inquired Snape.

"The rest of the gang!" exclaimed Bellatrix gleefully.

"...The rest...?"

His eyes followed Douchebag as the elf went to answer the door. Snape had a bad feeling about this. Nothing that made Bellatrix this happy could be any good. In fact, he had a _really bad _feeling that this had something to do with the surprise, which -- if things went the way they normally did for him -- was destined to be... well... _really bad_. But maybe it would be something dangerous that would lead to his untimely death? _No_, he thought, _there's no way I'll be that lucky. ...Dammit._

**.3. **

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**Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	4. The Muggle Hunt

**101**** Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life**

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Thank you to everyone who's reviewed! I really appreciate the feedback. And to my reviewer who mentioned Hannibal Lecter, I was so pleased when I read that because I actually have a _Silence of the Lambs _reference in this chapter! 

**NOTE**:

1) When I came up with the idea for this chapter, I thought to myself, _oh this is going to be soooo funny_. Well, it didn't turn out exactly the way I wanted. It's a pretty twisted plotline, and the black humor I'd been _hoping _for sort of evolved into this really sick, awful situation. So... this chapter ends on a dark note. It won't happen again, I promise! I didn't originally intend for it to go there, but it just... did.

2) If any of you are from the southern United States, don't get mad at me for poking fun at it. I was born and raised there.

3) Made up another spell: _Sepelio Mentis, _which might be loosely translated "to destroy the mind."

**4****) I have never agreed with the opinion held by so many devoted Snape fans that he is, deep down, a "nice" guy. I don't think Snape is a _bad _person, _per se_, but I think he's a very cruel person. I think he's an extremely dark, disturbed individual, and I don't believe that Dumbledore is the only person he's ever killed. And no, I don't really think Snape went around murdering people after he switched sides. Although it turned out a bit depressing toward the end, this chapter is still not intended to be taken seriously. It does not mean that I think, or _ever _thought -- even after Dumbledore's death -- that Snape was still loyal to Voldemort. I always trusted him. So don't let the ending of this chapter make you think that I believed he was still a "bad guy" in any _true _sense. **

5) The poem I quote is _The Second Coming _by William Butler Yeats. My favorite poem ever.

6) Also, I'm sorry it's such a long beast of a chapter. I hope someone manages to read it all.

**Disclaimer**: The warped plotline is mine, but that's about it.

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**.4.**

**Chapter ****4****: The Muggle Hunt **

"Uh-oh," said Narcissa, smiling. "I believe the doorbell is my cue to head upstairs. Have fun, everyone, but try not to stay up too late." She winked.

Severus Snape watched her warily as she left the room. He looked at the clock and saw that it was 8:30. His eyes followed Douchebag as the elf headed for the front door. He couldn't shake the disconcerting feeling that something awful was about to happen. He was almost certain of it. Bellatrix was grinning happily and gazing toward the door with eager anticipation in her eyes.

"Would someone care to enlighten me? _What _is happening?" asked Snape.

Bellatrix opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly there was a loud BANG! A few seconds later, Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Rabastan, and Rodolphus walked into the room. "What the hell was that noise?" asked Lucius.

"I think Avery just killed your house elf," replied Goyle.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?" screamed Lucius.

"The little bastard called me a 'douchebag'!" yelled Avery. "Honestly, what would you have done?"

"You're paying for that!" cried Lucius. "_You'll _be purchasing my next house elf!"

"Why should I pay for it?"

"Because you've killed the last two!"

"So? It's not like you don't have plenty of money to throw around." Avery's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "...Or _do _you?"

"What?!" exclaimed Lucius, clearly alarmed by Avery's implication. "Of course I do. Money isn't the issue. I told you this last month! I just don't see any reason to throw it around. Not that I couldn't throw it around if I wanted to, of course! It's just that there's no need in-- ...My money is fine, thank you very much! I've got so much money in my vault I can barely fit it all! But that doesn't mean-- Well, that isn't saying-- What I mean to say is-- I--" He paused and looked around manically, clearly distressed. Snape wondered whether he was looking for his fucking hairbrush. Maybe if he could find it, he'd calm down a bit. "It's honestly _not _the money! ...It's the principle of the matter," Lucius finished lamely.

"Excuse me?" said Snape, ignoring Lucius's frenzied rant. "I would like some information. Why are all of you here?"

"It's your surprise," said Lucius.

"It's a Muggle Hunt!" exclaimed Bellatrix ecstatically.

"...What?" _Oh no, this is not good_, thought Snape. _How am I going to get out of this?_

"Yup," said Crabbe. "We've already set it up. Got 30 muggles tied up at an abandoned farm in Alabama."

"Alabama?" asked Bellatrix, somewhat confused. "You mean in the southeastern United States?"

"Yeah, it's a perfect location," said Avery. "It's got some woods behind it."

"Is it even _possible _to apparate that far?" asked Snape.

"Probably not," replied Rodolphus, "but it's necessary for plot purposes, so I'm sure we'll manage it somehow."

"...Right."

"Anyway," interjected Goyle, "I think the best way to go about it is to let the muggles loose at the outskirts of the farm. Then they'll be able to hide on the farm itself, or they can run to the woods."

"Exactly," said Rodolphus. "We let them go, we wait five minutes, and then we go hunting!"

Bellatrix frowned. "Isn't that a bit dangerous? If we give them that much free reign, there's no doubt a few of them will escape. Then they'll be able to run off and tell everyone they're being hunted by wizards."

"Don't worry," said Avery. "We already thought about that. We went all around the farm and about a fourth of the way into the forest and cast a charm that looks like regular mist, but if they manage to get that far and pass _through _it, they'll automatically be Obliviated. Then they can just wander off, and good riddance to them."

"Why didn't you make the mist poisonous?" asked Bellatrix. "Then we could make sure we got them all."

"Now, now, Bellatrix. That isn't a very sporting attitude. We have to give them a chance," said Lucius, smiling cruelly. "Where's the fun in it if we know exactly how it will turn out?"

"I think there's a _lot _of fun in knowing that 30 worthless muggles are going to die," said Bellatrix in a tone which clearly indicated that she couldn't even begin to comprehend the mentality of someone who wanted to give them a _sporting chance_.

"What do you think, Severus?" asked Lucius, ignoring Bellatrix's complaints. "Excited? I know you haven't been on a hunt in ages."

"I think," said Snape softly, "you are all complete idiots."

"Huh?" said Goyle.

"I can't go around killing muggles!" he hissed. "In case none of you have ever noticed, I work at Hogwarts. What if Dumbledore decides to check my wand? _Priori Incantatem_!"

"We already thought of that, too," Lucius assured him. "You won't be using your wand. Rodolphus has a spare."

"A spare?" Snape repeated weakly.

"I got it off a Mudblood I killed last month," Rodolphus explained.

_Oh no. How the **hell **do I get out of this? _Snape thought desperately. _Ah! I know -- appeal to their prejudice! _He raised an eyebrow and glared at Rodolphus coldly. "I am insulted."

"What do you mean?" asked Lucius.

"I _mean_..." said Snape dangerously, "that I cannot believe you had the audacity to assume that I would be willing to taint my hand by touching the wand of a vile, filthy, _disgusting _Mudblood."

Lucius nodded thoughtfully and said, "That didn't occur to me. But no, of course not -- that _would _be disgusting."

"So you're just not going to play?" asked Bellatrix incredulously. Snape almost cringed at her insinuation that killing 30 muggles was a _game _that could be _played_.

"No. I'll go with Lucius and help him look."

"Good," said Lucius. "You have better eyes than I do, and you can--"

"Okay, okay!" interrupted Avery. "Enough talk! Do we have the teams figured out?"

"Yes," said Lucius. "Team A is you and Rabastan, Team B is Bellatrix and Rodolphus, Team C is Crabbe and Goyle, and Team D is Severus and myself."

"Excellent," said Goyle. "And we've already settled on the prize money. Whichever team kills the most muggles gets 1,000 galleons."

Snape snorted. "You actually plan to kill 30 muggles?"

"Uhhh, _yeah_," said Bellatrix scornfully. "What do you _think _we're going to do with them? Distribute free hugs and buy them lollipops?"

"You do realize, of course, that the Dark Lord has ordered us to maintain low profiles," said Snape. "Do you not think that it will be a tad suspicious if 30 muggles disappear in one night, even if it _is _in another country?"

"Shit!" said Crabbe.

"Damn it to hell," muttered Rodolphus.

"Who cares?!" shouted Bellatrix.

"Unfortunately..." Lucius said slowly, "I think Severus is right."

"What, so we're just not going to kill them?!" yelled Bellatrix furiously.

"I guess we'll just have to Stun them. Or knock them unconscious," mused Lucius. "And then... Obliviate them... and release them afterward..." He didn't look pleased at the idea of letting the muggles live. In fact, he seemed slightly nauseated.

"I can't believe this!" shouted Bellatrix. "No way! I came to go muggle-HUNTING, not muggle-TRAPPING!"

"Well, you'll either agree to trap and release, or you can go home this instant!" snarled Lucius. "We're already taking a big risk by... _forgetting _to invite the Dark Lord, and 30 dead muggles might create quite a stir! He's sure to find out about it."

Bellatrix scowled at him and made a growling noise in the back of her throat, but after a few seconds, she nodded.

"Good. Now that that's settled, let's go."

**.4.**

Lucius guided Snape to the farm by side-along apparation. Snape was feeling pretty irritable. This was definitely not the way he wanted to spend his night. The moment Lucius told him about the "surprise" this morning, he should have refused to come. He should have known better than to think it would be okay. He'd set out this evening with the intention of enjoying a peaceful dinner, but _predictably_, something had gone horribly wrong. At the same time, however, he was -- on some level -- immensely relieved. In a way, he was pleased with himself -- he'd prevented 30 deaths without arousing suspicion from his fellow Death Eaters. That was quite an accomplishment. He was still a bit anxious, though, primarily because of Bellatrix. She was a loose cannon, and there was no telling what she might do. Snape and Lucius looked around for the others, and within a few seconds, Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan apparated beside them.

"Ugh! Look at this!" sneered Bellatrix. "We're in the middle of bumfuck Alabama. Thank god my mother can't see me right now."

"Where are the muggles?" asked Snape, ignoring her.

"They're tied in the barn over there," said Rodolphus.

"And you left them unsupervised?"

"Why not?" asked Rabastan. "I mean, where the hell are they going to go?"

"Who cares?" said Bellatrix again. "Let's just get started."

They walked to the barn and opened the door. Everyone pulled out their wands and muttered, "_Lumos_." Thirty muggles, many of whom had been Stunned, were tied (hands and feet) and lying on the floor of the barn. _This is pretty fucking sick_, Snape thought. The eight Death Eaters wandered through the barn, pointing their wands at the muggles' ropes and saying, "_Diffindo_." The muggles were too terrified to move; a couple of them were actually crying. _So fucking sick_. He was torn between the desire to condemn his friends and his inability to forget that they _were_, after all, most definitely his _friends_ -- it wasn't as if he'd befriended them against his will. He'd _chosen _them.

At first, Snape had assumed all the muggles were too frightened to say anything, but after couple of minutes, one of them spoke up: "I tell ya'll what, you freaks! Soon as I get loose, I'm gunna get my shotgun and teach you a lesson!"

"Perhaps we should teach _you _a lesson, you pathetic little insect," hissed Bellatrix. "Okay, muggles. Everyone look at me. Let me show you what happens when you talk back to us. And it will be _ten _times worse if you attempt to attack us." She pointed her wand at the muggle who had spoken and said, "_Crucio_!" The muggle screamed and writhed, and the other captives gaped at him, eyes wide. After a few seconds, Bellatrix lifted the curse. The man laid on the ground, twitching and moaning periodically. "Now, then," said Bellatrix softly, "does anyone _else_ have anything to say?" The muggles stared at their fallen comrade and said nothing. Bellatrix nodded in satisfaction.

"Excellent demonstration, Bella," said Rodolphus approvingly. The Death Eaters returned to their task of setting the muggles free.

After the ropes and sundry other binding spells had been removed, the muggles remained on the ground, trembling and trying not to look anyone in the eye. "May I have your attention, please?" said Bellatrix loudly, clapping her hands. "I _said_, may I have your attention please?" Most of the muggles looked up at her (some couldn't quite bear it, though, and they remained hunched over, staring at the ground). "We'll be playing a little game tonight, my filthy friends. It's a simple enough game. There's only one rule you need to remember." They stared up at her in trepidation. "Rule number one!" She paused and leered at them cruelly, her eyes glittering...

"_RUN_!" she barked. When no one moved, she added, "**_NOW!!!_**_"_

About 20 of the muggles did as they were told, but the rest remained frozen, too frightened to move.

"_Move_, damn you!" yelled Rodolphus. Avery, Bellatrix, Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle fired sparks from their wands. Then a loud BANG from Rabastan's wand galvanized the remaining muggles, and they struggled to their feet, running as fast as their legs could carry them.

"So now we wait five minutes?" asked Rodolphus as he watched them run.

"Better give them 10, actually," replied Lucius. "We've got brooms, so we can afford to let them get a good head start."

"Brooms?" asked Snape. Lucius pointed to the corner of the barn, where eight brooms were propped against the wall.

"By the way," began Lucius, "I think we need to change two of the teams."

"What do you mean?" asked Goyle.

"Oh, your team won't be affected. But I think Rodolphus should come with me, and Severus should go with Bellatrix."

"WHAT?!" screamed Bellatrix. Snape groaned inwardly.

"You heard me, dammit."

"But why??"

"Because I said so!" barked Lucius. "I don't think Rodolphus will be able to adequately control your floridly psychotic behavior!"

"What are you--" started Bellatrix.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" snapped Rodolphus.

Lucius glared at him. "It means you're bloody well terrified of her, and you know it!"

"I most certainly am not! I think I can handle my own wife!"

"No you can't, mate," interjected Avery. "You're pussy-whipped. Admit it."

"I RESENT THAT!" screamed Rodolphus and Bellatrix in unison.

"Not that anyone seems terribly concerned about _my _feelings in this matter," said Snape softly, "but I _personally _have a bit of a problem with this new arrangement."

"I am NOT going with him," said Bellatrix, pointing at Snape.

"Yes, you are," growled Lucius.

Snape glared Bellatrix for a moment and then spoke to Lucius: "I am not in the mood to babysit that mentally unbalanced little harlot."

"I think maybe--" started Rodolphus.

"No arguments, Rodolphus!" yelled Lucius. "You're coming with me."

"I wasn't going to argue! I was _actually _going to say that I think maybe it's for the best."

"Yeah, I'll bet you do," muttered Rabastan. Snape smirked. He happened to agree with Rabastan's theory that Rodolphus had a bit of a _soft spot _(for lack of a better phrase) for Lucius.

"What the hell?!" Bellatrix yelled at Rodolphus. "You're going to _allow _Lucius to send your wife off with a traitor to the Dark Lord?"

"I really must insist that--" began Snape.

"Bellatrix, you're going with Severus, and that's the end of it!" said Lucius.

"How dare you order me--"

Snape glared at Lucius. "_Listen _to me, I refuse--"

"It's _my _hunt, Bellatrix, _my _idea!" continued Lucius, ignoring Snape. "You will respect my authority!"

"Do _not _interrupt me again, Lucius," Snape said dangerously. "I'll have you know--"

"You don't have any authority over me!" cried Bellatrix.

"If you won't cooperate," snarled Lucius, "you can go home and--"

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!" Snape bellowed furiously. Everyone turned to stare at him. "I do _not _appreciate being ignored, and I will not tolerate it!"

"_Look_," replied Lucius, "You're the one who was so worried about the goddamn muggles' safety. Unless you want about 10 of them to end up gutted like fish, I suggest you go with Bellatrix and keep a close eye on her."

Snape stood there scowling, fists clenched with rage. _How DARE they interrupt and ignore me and then order me around? _he thought angrily. Still... it was true. If he didn't go police Bellatrix, she would use this hunt as an opportunity to commit the kind of atrocities that would make Jeffrey Dahmer blush. He took a deep breath. "_Fine_!"

"_Thank _you." Lucius looked at Bellatrix. "And are _you _going to cooperate?"

For a moment, she seemed incapable of unclenching her jaw long enough to speak. At last, she muttered, "Fine."

"Good. And try for _once _to get along, or you won't have any fun," said Lucius.

"I apologize that my mood is somewhat darkened by the knowledge that I have to spend several hours tailing this bloodthirsty, ungovernable lunatic," hissed Snape.

Lucius looked at him for a moment and shook his head. Then he glanced over at Rodolphus, smiled slightly, and leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Rodolphus snickered.

"What the hell is so goddamn amusing?" Bellatrix snapped.

Lucius smiled innocently. "Severus... Bellatrix... HOLD STILL!" And before they could jump out of the way, Lucius and Rodolphus shot Cheering Charms in their direction. Snape and Bellatrix gasped as they felt the spells hit them.

"WHY YOU DIRTY LITTLE ASS--" began Bellatrix, but then she trailed off: "...holes..."

Snape wanted to scream at Lucius, but suddenly he realized he felt a lot better. _Tons _better, actually. He noticed that Bellatrix had stopped shrieking (a rare event) and guessed that the charm was having the same effect on her.

"Now then," said Lucius, smiling smugly, "are we ready to start the hunt?"

Snape and Bellatrix nodded in a bemused sort of way, not yet acclimated to their altered mental state.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Lucius. He glanced over at Crabbe, Goyle, Avery, Rabastan, and Rodolphus, and said, "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's begin!"

**.4.**

As the other groups went (or _flew_, rather) their separate ways, Snape and Bellatrix continued to stare at one another. Finally, she broke the silence. "...Shall we?" Snape nodded and followed her to the corner of the barn to grab a broom. After a moment, she asked, "Where do we look first?"

He thought for a moment. "I think the others will make a mistake by heading straight for the forest. They'll assume all the muggles ran in that direction in an attempt to put as much distance as possible between them and us. But I think a few of them will have been more inclined to stay on the farm, thinking they would be more likely to find adequate hiding places. They probably also thought that staying on the farm would prevent them from becoming lost."

"So we should fly around the farm?" she asked.

He nodded affirmatively, and they climbed onto their brooms and took off. Truth be told, Snape didn't particularly enjoy flying, but it was definitely better than walking. He had sharp eyes, and he scanned the area carefully. The more muggles he could catch, the better. After all, he would ensure that the ones that were captured were put back in a civilized area. The ones who got loose and wandered out the other side of the forest... well, they'd be Obliviated -- which meant they'd be lost in the middle of nowhere, with no clue as to how they'd gotten there. ...And if he and Bellatrix moved quickly enough, maybe they could even win the hunt. _I definitely wouldn't mind winning __500__ galleons, _he thought, somewhat guiltily.

"Look!" he shouted. "There's a well! Let's stop by there first." They zoomed over to the well and dismounted. They went to the edge and peered downward. It was a dry well, and at the bottom of it was a slightly chubby -- and very distressed -- young muggle. She was covered in dirt, and she shrieked when she saw Bellatrix and Snape looking down at her.

Bellatrix smiled coldly. In a soft, clear, eerie tone, she said, "It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again. ...HAH!"

Snape snorted and stifled a laugh. He felt bad about laughing at the muggle's discomfort, but dammit, it was funny! The Cheering Charm had worked wonders. He hadn't felt this good in years.

"Let's torture her!" exclaimed Bellatrix jubilantly.

"No! We don't have time. We'll do it after we catch the others." _Well_, he thought, _that argument will keep the muggles safe for the time being. But how am I going to prevent her from torturing them when the hunt is over? _

Bellatrix pouted and muttered, "Fine..."

Snape pointed his wand at the muggle and thought, _Incarcerous_. Ropes sprung up and bound her. Turning to Bellatrix, he said, "We can bring the others back here. This well is big enough."

"Good idea. I didn't see anyone else on the farm. Shall we head for the forest?"

Snape nodded. They climbed back on their brooms and flew toward the woods. When they got there, they slowed their pace and flew just over the tops of the trees. "I think I see movement!" whispered Bellatrix. "Let's go down!" They descended slowly, maneuvering the brooms carefully between the trees. When they reached the ground, they dismounted and looked around.

"I don't see anything," said Snape softly.

"Let's walk for a bit, though. They're probably hiding behind a tree, and it'll be easier to hear them breathing or moving if we stay on the ground."

Snape wasn't sure he liked this idea, but he was still feeling quite cheerful, so he acquiesced and followed Bellatrix as she crept soundlessly among the trees. "I think it was over here," she said, whispering and pointing to the right.

For some indiscernible reason, Snape was becoming more and more uncomfortable as they walked. He was just about to insist that they return to the air, when suddenly, he felt a violent jerking sensation and was hoisted upward by his ankle. Apparently he'd stepped in some kind of muggle trap.

"What the--?" began Bellatrix.

Snape gasped, pointed his wand in a random direction, and shouted the first spell that entered his mind: "_Stupify!_" Unfortunately, he accidentally hit Bellatrix, who cried out in surprise and hit the ground with a thud.

From somewhere behind him, he heard a man scream: "Club 'em, Bubba!" Snape tried to aim his wand in the direction of the voice; before he could get his bearings however, something hard struck him in the back of the head, and everything went black.

**.4.**

Snape opened his eyes groggily a short time later. He shook his head dazedly and blinked to clear his vision. He was back in the barn, his wand was gone, and his hands and feet had been tied. Lucius and Rodolphus were awake and leaning against the opposite wall, also heavily bound. He glanced to his right and saw that Bellatrix was beside him, still unconscious. He looked back to Lucius, who was clenching and unclenching his jaw, and whose hair was more disheveled than Snape had ever seen it.

"Lucius, do you realize how screwed up your--"

"Yes, I know! Shut up! And my scalp hurts, too -- I think they dragged me through the woods by my goddamn hair!"

_Uh-oh_. Snape knew the situation was bad if Lucius was referring to his precious blond locks as his 'goddamn hair'. He turned to Rodolphus and asked, "What happened to you?"

"We got caught in a net," he replied in a remarkably calm tone of voice. "And you?"

"Not sure. Some kind of muggle rope trap." Then he heard a low moan and noticed that Bellatrix was waking.

She looked up blearily and said, "Wha... What happened?"

"We've been captured."

"What?!" She tugged at her ropes. "This is all your fault, Snape!" she hissed. "You Stunned me!!"

"It was an accident! And if you feel the need to blame someone, I suggest you start with Lucius! This godforsaken hunt was his idea!"

Before Bellatrix had a chance to respond, they heard movement and looked to the entrance of the barn in time to see four men enter, one of whom was holding their wands. "Lookie here," said the shortest man, "they done waked up already!" Snape flinched at the man's wretched grammar and obnoxious accent. _That fool speaks more ignorantly than a bloody house elf, _he thought.

"Release us this instant, you grimy little muggle HICK!" demanded Bellatrix.

"Muggle? What's that?"

"Sum kinda foreign street slang, I bet," said the largest man. "They ain't from 'round here. Ya can tell that from them accents."

"Untie these ropes, you putrid, malodorous redneck! " screamed Bellatrix.

"You best mind yer manners, Missy," said one of the men. "You ain't in much of a place to be givin' orders."

Bellatrix sneered at him, "Holy hell! I can't even understand a goddamn word you're saying! Can't you speak English?"

"Oh, was that _English_?" asked Snape, raising his eyebrows and feigning surprise. "I had no idea."

"Wut should we do with 'em, Bubba?" asked one of the men, indicating the largest man of the group.

_Oh for god's sake_, thought Snape. _They're like animals -- the biggest, fattest one is the leader of the pack! I **knew **these muggles shouldn't have been left unsupervised! They made **friends **with each other while we weren't watching! **Now **look what's happened! _

Lucius glared up at Bubba haughtily and said, "Release us immediately!"

Bubba ignored Lucius and addressed the man who had spoken previously, "I ain't decided just yet, Cooter."

"Good lord," sneered Snape, clearly disgusted. "Is that _actually _your name?"

"Yup. An' this here's Bubba, Cletus, an' Billy Bob," he said, indicating the others. "What's yer name?"

"I'll not reveal my name to foul _creatures _such as yourself," said Snape coolly.

"This 'un's mean-spirited," said Billy Bob, looking critically at Snape.

"Well, come on now, whadaya reckon we oughtta do with 'em?" asked Cletus.

"Dunno," said Bubba. "What'chu reckon they are?"

"Aliens, best I can figure," replied Cooter.

"We're wizards, you imbecile!" yelled Lucius.

Bubba laughed. "Yeah, right. That's a hoot, buddy."

"Don't you dare refer to me as if I were one of your idiotic comrades!" spat Lucius indignantly.

Cletus held up one of the wands, pointed it at Lucius, and asked, "What's this here stick? Sum kinda weird alien gun?"

Lucius raised an eloquent eyebrow. "_That there stick_," he snarled mockingly, "is my _wand_. It's what I'm going to kill you with as soon as I escape these accursed ropes!"

"He likes big talk, don't he?" said Bubba, sounding amused. "I like that 'un. He's kinda perdy, ain't he?"

"I'm sorry," said Lucius scathingly, "I didn't quite catch that. Were you attempting to form the words '_he is kind of pretty, isn't he'_?"

"Got a attitude, too, don't he?" said Bubba. "Okay by me. I like 'em sassy."

Lucius's eyes widened. "What the hell does that mean?"

Bubba leered at him and said, "I like them crazy, fancy clothes ya got. That fer a costume party?"

"No, these are my fucking robes, and they cost over 3,000 galleons!"

Snape rolled his eyes. _Predictable, _he thought_. Even in a mess like this, Lucius has managed to find a way to brag about his money._

Bubba laughed. "Blondie here's gon' be a good time, I figure!"

Cletus walked over to Snape and said, "Naw, I like this 'un. Sumthin' kinda dark and mysterious 'bout 'im."

"I hope you realize," said Snape dangerously, "that I'm going to brutally murder you the second I find a way to extricate myself from these ropes."

"Ooh, listen at that!" exclaimed Cletus. "This 'un's feisty, too."

"I assure you, when I manage to free myself, you will find yourself quite incapable of lightheartedly referring to me as 'feisty.' Then again, depending on how _quickly _and by what _means _I choose to kill you, you might just find yourself incapable of doing anything other than _screaming_."

Cletus chuckled. "Listen to that, boys! He reckons he can get loose an' kill me."

"I wouldn't _mock _me, if I were you," hissed Snape. "The more intensely you anger me, the more excruciating your demise will assuredly be."

Ignoring Snape's threats, Billy Bob walked up to Rodolphus and said, "I like this 'un here." Rodolphus narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth menacingly.

"Naw," said Cooter. "Hey, Bubba, I think I want that blond 'un, too."

Bubba nodded. "It's gon' hafta be sloppy seconds, though, buddy. I called 'im first."

"Sloppy _what_?!" cried Lucius in alarm.

Bellatrix turned to Snape and whispered, "What are they talking about? What are they planning to do with us?"

"Did you ever have the lamentable misfortune of seeing the movie _Deliverance_?"

"Yes."

"Well," said Snape, "think back on it. That should give you a good idea of what's about to happen."

Bellatrix's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped. "_You mean_--?"

"I believe so. In fact, I would be willing to stake a rather large sum of money that my assessment of the situation -- disturbing though it may be -- is correct."

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Bellatrix. "They're going to rape us!"

"**WHAT?!?!**" screamed Rodolphus and Lucius.

"Don't worry yer little head, Missy," said Bubba, looking at Bellatrix. "No one said nuthin' 'bout you."

"You mean you're not going to rape me?"

"Naw."

She frowned in consternation. "Well, why the hell not?" she shouted indignantly. "I'm not good enough for you?!"

"Bellatrix," said Snape slowly, "I believe this would be an excellent time to close your belligerent mouth -- difficult and trying though that task may seem."

"Don' take it too hard, ma'am," said Bubba placatingly. "'S jus', yer kinda beastly. Sorta scary, ya know?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, Snape couldn't help snorting in amusement. "This is what I've been saying for years. _Finally_, we have managed to acquire input from an unbiased party, and he has come to the same inevitable conclusion: you are a manly _beast_."

"FUCK you, Snape!" screamed Bellatrix.

"Are you feeling unloved, Bellatrix? Did you not mention my suggestion to Rodolphus? The one about having your pipes cleaned?"

"My sex life is perfectly fine!"

"I seriously doubt it. You realize, of course, that your husband is a flaming fruit (not that there's anything wrong with that)."

"What?!" snapped Rodolphus.

"How _dare _you imply such a thing about my husband!" shrieked Bellatrix.

"That wasn't an implication, Bellatrix. It's a fact. I would wager that Rodolphus will come out of this unfortunate -- ah -- _situation _far less psychologically scarred than Lucius and myself."

"Not that there's anything wrong with it," said Rodolphus, "but I am NOT gay!"

Everyone ignored him. "He's not gay!" insisted Bellatrix.

"Yes, he is," Snape said curtly. "The two of you seem to be the only human beings within a 30,000 mile radius that remain unaware of this fact."

"_You're _gay!"

"Please refrain from projecting your husband's perversions (not that there's _really _anything wrong with them) onto me."

"He's a very masculine man! He's not gay!"

"Lucius," said Snape, "is Rodolphus a homosexual?"

Without hesitation, Lucius replied, "Undoubtedly. Total fruit-loop."

"You're just saying that to make Snape look better!" yelled Bellatrix.

"He's gay," said Snape.

"Is not!"

"Gay, gay, gay."

"When I get loose, I'm going to kill you!"

"_So _gay," Snape taunted. "Maybe that's why he married you. You're already so close to being a man yourself--"

"Shut up, you great, greasy GIT!"

Finally losing his temper, Snape yelled, "Fuck you and your 'greasy' insults, you contemptible guttersnipe! Go ahead and come to terms with it: he's GAY!"

"Liar!" shrieked Bellatrix.

"Doesn't anyone care what I think?" asked Rodolphus meekly.

"**NO!!!!**" bellowed Snape and Bellatrix in unison.

The rednecks watched this heated exchange warily. They weren't sure what to make of it. Rodolphus listened avidly, trying to figure out who was actually correct about his sexual orientation, because now that he thought about it... Lucius, on the other hand, glared at Bellatrix and Snape disdainfully, reflecting on the fact that -- of all the people in the world -- _only _those two were petty enough to get into a bitch fight of this magnitude in the middle of a situation this serious.

"A'rite, a'rite, break it up kids," interrupted Bubba. Bellatrix and Snape glowered at him so fiercely that he actually retreated a step. Regaining his composure a moment later, he said, "Let's get this show on the road, boys."

"How's it gonna go?" asked Cletus.

"Well, I say we take it in turns," replied Bubba. "I figure me an' Billy Bob'll take our two an' go first, and you and Cooter can stay out here an' keep a eye on the others." He smiled hideously, revealing a mouth full of... well, almost nothing, actually. He had about five teeth, and none of them were exactly _intact_. He walked up to Lucius and ran a hand gently through his luxurious blond tresses.

"No, no, no, not the hair, you filthy, depraved muggle! DON'T _TOUCH _IT!" bellowed Lucius. Then he turned his head and bit Bubba's hand ferociously. Bubba screamed and jerked his hand back.

"OUCH! Goddamn bastard bit me! ...We're gonna hafta teach this 'un some manners boys," growled Bubba. He turned to Cooter and said, "Get the hedge clippers."

"Get the what??" squeaked Lucius in alarm, as Cooter trotted away.

Cooter returned a few moments later and handed the large, rusty clippers to Bubba. "Now then," said Bubba. "Hold him down, boys. I think our perdy lil' friend here could do with a haircut."

"WHAT?!" Lucius began struggling frantically. He looked absolutely insane. He threw himself over onto his side and started trying to crawl away. "NO, NO, NO, GET AWAY FROM ME!! NOT THAT! ANYTHING BUT THE HAIR!"

As Snape watched him, he thought about the fact that Lucius had had a really bad day. _First the rat, and now this... _It would have been easier to pity him, if not for the fact that this _had_, after all, been his idea. As far as Snape was concerned, whatever catastrophe resulted from this calamitous, bungled Muggle Hunt was entirely Lucius's fault.

Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Snape watched in morbid fascination as the rednecks held Lucius down. He screamed bloody murder for the duration of the haircutting episode. By the time Bubba was finished, Lucius's hair looked like it had gotten caught in a mulcher (or something equally destructive). Most of it was gone, and what was left was a total wreck. Snape was surprised Lucius hadn't started crying. He seemed to be trembling, though with anger or with fear, Snape couldn't tell. _This is the worst night I've had in years_, he thought. _This is worse than the disastrous New Year's Eve party the Dark Lord threw __17__ years ago, when he rented out that karaoke machine and spent the **entire **evening singing _Sussudio _by Phil Collins... The __80__'s really **were **awful._ He sat there quietly, mentally chastising himself for not jumping off the astronomy tower when he'd had the chance.

"I'm going to kill myself," he said. He was surprised to see that he'd spoken aloud. He hadn't meant to.

"Don' be sayin' stuff like that," chided Cletus. "Lord don't take too kindly to that kinda talk. He says so in the 10 Commandments."

Snape sneered magnificently. "Aren't there also a few passages in the Bible which suggest that the Lord frowns upon ass-raping?"

Cletus laughed. "Aww, now ya can't go takin' the Big Book that seriously all the time."

Snape kept sneering, but said nothing. Lucius's eyes were as wide as saucers. He looked up at Bubba fearfully. "NOW what? What are you going to do to me?"

"Unless I am very much mistaken," said Snape, "he is going to -- ah -- _deflower _your ass."

Lucius stared up at Bubba in abject horror. He seemed to be holding out one last desperate hope that this was not, in fact, what was about to happen. When Bubba failed to refute Snape's claim, Lucius made a last-ditch effort to save his ass: "You can't fuck us! We're aliens, we're aliens! Remember? You'll catch an evil, alien, outer-space BUTT FUNGUS!"

"Ya can't fool me, blondie," replied Bubba. "Ya already done said ya ain't no alien. Yer just good ol' fashioned man-meat dressed in funny clothes."

Bubba reached a hand toward him, and Lucius started shouting wildly: "GET THE FUCK OFF ME, YOU FILTHY BUTT-PIRATE!!!!!!"

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," said Snape coolly.

"SHUT UP!" howled Lucius. "FUCK YOU AND YOUR POLITICALLY-CORRECT BULLSHIT!! THERE IS _DEFINITELY _SOMETHING _WRONG _WITH IT WHEN IT'S **_MY _**ASS THAT'S ABOUT TO GET **_PIRATED_**!!!!!"

Snape raised an eyebrow, and Bellatrix snapped, "That's just plain ignorant, Lucius."

"I'M GOING TO BE RAPED! WHAT IS **_WRONG _**WITH YOU PEOPLE?!?!?!?!"

"A'rite," said Bubba, finally getting annoyed with the shenanigans, "it's time to go, little piggy. I wanna see how loud ya can squeal." At this point, Lucius just _lost _it and started screaming uncontrollably. Snape winced at the sound, and Bellatrix sneered disdainfully. Unable to bear the noise, Bubba wadded up a handkerchief and gagged Lucius. "Heh. Guess we won't be able to drag 'im by his hair this time, huh, boys? Seein' how he ain't really got none." And with that, Bubba dragged a hysterical, struggling, terrified Lucius out of the barn.

Billy Bob approached Rodolphus, who glared up at him and hissed, "If you lay _one _hand on me, you vile muggle, I promise you, you'll draw back a _nub_!" The redneck chuckled and, with Cooter's help, managed to gag Rodolphus and drag him behind the barn.

**.4.**

Once the others had left, Bellatrix and Snape sat in silence for a few minutes. They glared hatefully at Cletus and Cooter, who retreated to the other end of the barn to smoke and talk. Finally, Bellatrix turned to Snape and hissed, "What kind of wizard are you?! Can't you do magic without your wand?"

"Can't _you_?" he snarled.

"Probably, but I don't know how! We don't have any training in that sort of thing!"

"Exactly. _We don't know how_. So don't look at me like _I _should be able to do something."

"Come on, Luke!" cried Bellatrix. "Use the FORCE!"

"Fuck you and your inappropriately-chosen pop culture references, Bellatrix."

Disappointed that he hadn't appreciated her valiant attempt to be humorous in the midst of a difficult situation, she sulked in silence. After about 15 minutes, Billy Bob came back into the barn dragging Rodolphus, who was screaming (though the sound was, thankfully, muffled by his gag) and fighting him every step of the way. Billy Bob threw him down in the middle of the floor and walked up to Cletus and Cooter. "Okay, boys," he said. "Cletus, Bubba said to go ahead and drag yers outside. Cooter, you wanted the blond 'un, right?" Cooter nodded. "A'rite, well, he's still out there. Bubba's watchin' 'im 'til you get there."

"Gimme a hand with this 'un, Cooter," said Cletus as he advanced on Snape. _Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no. There's got to be a way out of this,_ he thought desperately. He'd managed (for the most part) to maintain his composure up to this point, but he finally lost it completely and started screaming, "_ACCIO WAND, ACCIO WAND!!! **ACCIO MOTHERFUCKING WAND!!!!!!!**"_ It didn't come to him, but the rafters of the barn shook, and the walls quaked. He tried to focus his power on his ropes, in the hope that he could break them, but he was too agitated and distraught to concentrate properly. Suddenly... he heard voices.

"--don't really see the point in going on." It was Goyle. "Personally, I'm tired. I bet 13's enough. I mean, that's almost half of them between the two of us." He and Crabbe appeared in the doorway, stopped abruptly, and stared at the bizarre scene in front of them.

"DO SOMETHING!" screamed Bellatrix, Snape, and Rodolphus in unison.

Cletus yelled, "Billy Bob! Cooter! Get the guns!"

"HELP US!" screamed Bellatrix.

"STOP THEM!" bellowed Snape.

"LET US LOOSE!" howled Rodolphus.

Galvanized by their friends' urgent cries, Crabbe and Goyle rushed toward them. The rednecks were heading for the back of the barn, trying to reach a rusty old gun rack. Goyle pointed his wand at Cooter's back and yelled, "_Avada Kedavra!_" Cooter crashed into a wall and lay still.

Crabbe rushed over to Snape, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus. Snape was released first, and he scrambled frantically toward the corner where his wand lay. He picked it up and turned back to look at the fleeing muggles. Crabbe took aim at one of them and screamed, "_Avada Kedavra!_" Billy Bob lurched forward and tumbled to the ground.

Unfortunately, Cletus had already reached a rifle, which had been perched on the gun rack. He turned to face the wizards, who stared at him in confusion. They had no idea what a gun was. Cletus pointed the gun at Goyle and pulled the trigger.

"HOLY SHIT!" screamed Goyle as the bullet hit him in the leg. He fell over, howling and trying to halt the bleeding.

Snape pointed his wand at Cletus and thought, _Expelliaramus! _The gun flew into the air. Pleased to see that the spell had worked as well on a muggle device as it did on a wand, Snape smiled cruelly and snarled, "No one touch him! He's mine!" Snape didn't just want to kill him. He wanted to _destroy _him. He kept his wand trained on the muggle and thought, _Petrificus Totalus! _Cletus's entire body went rigid as he fell to the ground.

Snape turned to look at his friends. Crabbe and Bellatrix were kneeling beside Goyle, trying to keep him from bleeding out. Rodolphus was standing over Billy Bob's body and shooting him with Killing Curse after Killing Curse. "Rodolphus," said Snape softly, almost gently, "I realize you're upset, but I think you can stop cursing him now. He was dead the first seven times." Rodolphus was shaking violently. He glared at Snape, but after a moment, he nodded resignedly and walked stiffly away from the body.

"Snape!" cried Bellatrix. "We've got to get Goyle to St. Mungo's. You and Crabbe will have to take him! They'll arrest me if they see me!"

"Crabbe can handle it by himself!" snarled Snape. "I'm not finished here! And _you _need to go find Lucius! Stun that muggle who's guarding him, but _don't _kill him! Bring him back here."

Seeing that this was no time to argue, Bellatrix sprinted out of the barn to look for Lucius. Rodolphus couldn't bring himself to _sit down _(Snape didn't really want to think about _why_, but he had a pretty good idea). Snape turned to Crabbe, pointed at Goyle, and yelled, "Take him to the hospital! NOW!" Crabbe obeyed immediately. He gripped Goyle firmly and disapparated.

Satisfied that his orders were being carried out, Snape returned his attention to Cletus. He lifted the body-bind curse so that his prey could move. Then he pointed his wand at him and said firmly, "Don't move. Move _one _centimeter, and you die." Cletus cowered and didn't move. Snape smiled. "Now then," he said. "We have unfinished business... don't we?" Cletus's eyes widened in terror. Snape smiled malevolently at him. _Detestable, horrible, loathsome, FILTHY muggle_, he thought. _And I tried to save him! I tried to save them all! And I almost got RAPED by one of the very people I was trying to protect! _"Let's see," he said in his silkiest voice, "whatever should we do with you? I can't very well set you free, now can I?" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "And you and your _foul _little friends did despicable things to _my _friends. Things which you, in turn, would have done to _me_, were it not for the timely intervention of my comrades -- one of whom you took it upon yourself to wound. It would be quite irresponsible and possibly _immoral _for me to release you. Who knows what harm you might wreak upon a defenseless society?"

He took a step back and cocked his head slightly as he considered the muggle and tried to decide on an appropriate curse. How badly should he hurt him? Oh he would die, assuredly -- there was no question of that. But how painfully? He pointed his wand at Cletus, looked into his eyes, and muttered, "_Legilimens!" _He saw flashes of memories that were not his own. Some of them were horrible... _women and children being beaten... rape... violence..._ Snape snarled and lifted the spell._ Disgusting, murderous muggle! _But what curse to use...?

And then it hit him. Dumbledore always said that there were fates worse than death. Snape agreed. He decided to use a curse he hadn't had a chance to use since before the Dark Lord's fall all those long years ago. A spell he had invented himself. He smiled hatefully, black eyes glittering, and said, "Don't worry. I won't kill you." Then he pointed his wand at the muggle and thought, _Sepelio Mentis!_

The muggle screamed. And screamed. And screamed. An insane, deranged, ear-splitting scream. Snape stood back to admire his handiwork. _It truly is an **amazing **curse_, he mused. _Utterly unique. One might even say... something to be proud of. Genius, certainly..._ No one else knew this spell. He'd never told anyone. No, this one was only for his personal use. He had only used it twice in the past, and he had never dreamed he'd use it again. There was a counter-curse, of course; but he wouldn't be using it. Not on this muggle trash.

The curse didn't cause physical pain. There were no physical sensations that accompanied it at all. It was psychological -- _psychological torture_. It was all within the victim's mind. An individual subjected to this curse would eventually go mad -- his brain would conjure up ghastly, hideous, terrifying, _nightmarish _images until his mind literally _broke_ -- torn asunder by fear and horror. Snape crossed his arms and wondered, with eerie clinical detachment, what the muggle was seeing. The curse affects each person differently, depending on what he or she dreads and fears. He watched dispassionately as the muggle writhed within his own personal hell -- the hell his own sick, twisted mind had created for him. He wondered how long it would be before the man began clawing his own eyes out. That was an inevitable outcome. At some point, he would make a futile attempt to eradicate the gruesome visions by blinding himself. "Won't be long now..." Snape mused quietly.

"Snape!" yelled Rodolphus. "Shut that muggle up! What the _hell _did you _do _to him? The screaming is driving me _mad_!" Snape smirked at the irony of his friend's word choice. If only Rodolphus knew exactly how close to madness the muggle had come. _How soon will his mind break, I wonder...?_

Rodolphus's voice jarred him out of his reverie: "SNAPE! SHUT HIM UP!"

He nodded and pointed his wand at Cletus, thinking, _Silencio_. Then he turned and went to join Rodolphus. Snape knew what the outcome of the Muggle's plight would be. He didn't need to watch anymore.

A few minutes later, Bellatrix appeared, practically dragging Lucius, who seemed incapable of doing anything other than standing rigidly and gazing blankly into space. His face was so white he looked like a ghost. He was still trembling. His eyes were wide, and he stared feverishly at nothing in particular. Bubba's motionless form was floating beside Bellatrix, and she dropped him unceremoniously to the ground as she entered the barn. She surveyed the scene, noting the two dead muggles and Cletus, who was silently screaming and clawing at his face in the background.

She stared at Cletus for a moment before inquiring, "What's his goddamn problem?"

Snape shrugged, then addressed Lucius, "Are you alright?" No response. "Bellatrix brought the muggle. Do you want to kill him?" No response. "Lucius? Don't you want to kill the nasty muggle?" Nothing. Snape raised an eyebrow and looked at Bellatrix curiously.

"He won't speak," she said softly. "He won't do _anything_. We have to get him home."

Snape nodded thoughtfully. "Go let Avery and Rabastan know it's time to go. Then round up all the captured muggles, and bring them back here. Don't hurt them, and don't bring them _inside _the barn. I don't want them to see the dead ones. Leave them outside."

Bellatrix went outside and shot red sparks into the sky: the signal that the hunt was over. Rabastan and Avery would return shortly. Rodolphus went to stand beside Lucius and tried to persuade him to speak. It was no use. Snape walked over to Bubba and glared down at his unconscious form. Then he waited.

**.4.**

Forty-five minutes later, Bellatrix returned with Avery and Rabastan and announced that the muggles were gathered outside. "How many are there?" asked Snape.

"All 26!" said Rabastan proudly. "We managed to locate them all -- ours plus everyone else's. By the way, who won the hunt?"

"Crabbe and Goyle, I suppose. They caught 13, Bellatrix and I caught one, and Lucius and Rodolphus didn't technically catch any."

"_What_?!" exclaimed Rabastan.

Snape turned to Bellatrix. "You didn't explain?"

"No, I thought you would want to do it."

"Not particularly." He turned back to Rabastan and Avery and said, "We'll explain later."

"Well who caught those dead ones in there?" asked Rabastan.

"And I thought we weren't going to kill any them. Does this mean we get to kill the rest of them?" asked Avery excitedly.

"No," replied Snape. "These were... extenuating circumstances. I have to go address the others."

He walked outside and looked at the 26 terrified muggles. A few of them had been bound, but most of them were just Stunned. He walked among them, releasing them. None of them spoke. Several of them sobbed. Once he'd freed them all, he stood back to watch them for a few moments. _Would any of these muggles have done the same thing the others did?_

"Flee," he said harshly. They stared at him, their expressions blank. "Get up. Now. Just get up and walk away. You will find a town a couple of miles from here. Go now. I shall ensure that no one harms you." They continued staring. "GO!" he snarled. "Go, or **_I _**will harm you!" The muggles struggled to their feet and ran away as quickly as they could, helping each other along whenever anyone faltered. Snape returned to the barn.

Everyone was standing around, looking a little lost. No one seemed sure of what to do. Bellatrix pointed at Bubba and asked, "What about him?"

Snape turned to Lucius and said, "Well? Have you any suggestions?"

Lucius trembled slightly but said nothing.

Bellatrix looked at Snape questioningly. He glared down at the muggle. "Kill him," he said coldly. Bellatrix smiled malevolently and pointed her wand at Bubba. "Wait!" said Snape. "Wake him. And don't use _Avada Kedavra_. Use something... _painful_."

Bellatrix beamed at him, clearly pleased with his _improved _attitude. She revived the muggle and Silenced him before he could say anything. She gazed at him pensively, trying to decide on a curse. Then she glanced over at Snape and flashed him a wicked smile. She pointed her wand at Bubba and cried, "_Sectumsempra!_"

Snape watched callously as the muggle bled out his life onto the ground. He felt no pity, no remorse. When Bubba's breathing finally shuddered to a halt, Snape turned to look at his fellow Death Eaters. "Let's go. I'll take Lucius back to the Manor."

The others nodded. It had been a horrible night. Worse than he could have ever imagined. Things this hellish weren't _predictable_. He was still angry. _Filthy muggles. Stupid muggles. Worthless, useless, deplorable muggles._ Rodolphus and Lucius were -- in a lot of ways -- cruel, heartless people, but they didn't deserve what had just happened to them. They brought it upon themselves, but they still didn't _deserve_ it. No one did.

Snape was struck with an overpowering desire to hear Cletus scream again. He wanted to know _exactly _how much the muggle was suffering. Snape stopped at the entrance to the barn, turned to face the muggle, and lifted the Silencing spell. The screams were bloodcurdling. Snape felt no sympathy. The muggle's suffering was condign. He was yelling and pleading... screaming something about everything being "horrible" and "evil". Snape gritted his teeth. _How **dare** someone as cruel as that muggle complain about **anything** being evil?_ He _hated _that muggle. That revolting, _worthless m_uggle.

He felt darkness welling up inside him -- the same black passion which had inspired him to become a Death Eater so many years ago. He felt as if his blood was on fire. It coursed like lava through his veins.

He walked outside, pursued by the sound of the muggle's deranged, frenzied screams. Still seething with fury, Snape turned and looked back. A wave of contempt surged through him as he pointed his wand at the barn and shouted, "_Incendio!_"

Bellatrix looked over at him in surprise, but didn't hesitate to add her own flame to the burning building. She, Avery, Rodolphus, and Rabastan aimed their wands at the barn and cried, "_Incendio!" _in unison. _Good_, Snape thought viciously. _Let it burn. Let it burn the filthy muggle alive_.

As the flames leapt higher, his tempestuous passion rose with them. He glanced over at Bellatrix. The firelight danced in her dark eyes, and her lips were curled back in a bloodthirsty grin. And for a moment, in the midst of his exquisite rage, he couldn't help noticing that -- despite the toll Azkaban had exacted on her -- she was beautiful. But it was a terrible beauty, born of ardent malice and fiendish exultation. As he looked at her, he saw his own savage joy reflected in her eyes -- it was the sort of feral, perverse ecstasy which only arose from the sweet seduction of darkness and corruption. As his glittering black eyes met her baleful gaze, he realized that she _knew _what he was feeling, and she understood: they were momentarily united in their hatred.

A rush of savage elation overwhelmed him, and he did the first thing that entered his mind: he pointed his wand upward and roared, "_MORSMORDRE!_" He watched with fierce satisfaction as the Dark Mark appeared in the sky. Bellatrix was grinning villainously at him, her eyes full of pride and glinting in the moonlight. She and Snape stared at one another for a moment. He returned her sadistic, mirthless smile. Then, grabbing hold of Lucius, he turned on the spot and was gone.

**.4.**

"He's not well, Narcissa."

"My lord, what happened to his _HAIR_?!" she cried mournfully.

"For god's sake," said Snape, rolling his eyes, "you and Lucius have the weirdest hair fetish. Nevermind his hair! You need to clean him up and put him in bed."

"But--but... _what happened to his hair_?!?"

"What the hell is _wrong _with you? Your husband has experienced a traumatic event! Dammit, Narcissa, you only married Lucius for his hair, _didn't _you?" he snarled accusingly.

"What? No! I... love Lucius... for... for who he is..."

"Yes, you sound so _very _concerned about his general well-being," replied Snape sarcastically.

"Well... well, why is he ill, then? What happened?"

"I'm sure he'll tell you whenever he is able. I think... he may need to see a therapist."

That snapped Lucius out of his stupor: "...The rapist?? THE RAPIST?!?! NO, GET IT AWAY! **_NO MORE MULLETS_**!!!"

"Stop it, Lucius!" said Snape. "That isn't even what I said. Go to bed." Lucius's muscles relaxed a bit, and he went back to staring at nothing. Snape turned to Narcissa and said, "I need to go."

"But it's so late!" she protested. He tried to wave her away, but she wouldn't relent: "Why don't you spend the night and have breakfast with us? Douchebag will... oh wait... he's dead... But that's alright! I can cook if I have to. I make excellent porridge."

"Ugh," he groaned. "Porridge?"

"What's wrong with porridge?"

"I'm terribly sorry Narcissa, but I have an issue with eating something which looks as if it has already been consumed at some point and then regurgitated onto a platter. Good night." Without waiting for a response, he fled the house.

**.4.**

As he closed the door behind him, he sighed heavily. He dreaded morning, because he knew that when he woke up, he would feel guilty and wretched. His recent conduct hadn't exactly been... exemplary. In fact, it had been abominable. Passion spawned from cruelty and hatred. For the most part, his exhilaration had subsided by the time he reached Malfoy Manor, but even now, as he apparated outside the gates of Hogwarts and entered, he could still feel a faint, residual tingling throughout his body. There was something strangely menacing about it. _Then again_, he reflected, _everything is menacing these days_. The world was falling apart. The Dark Lord was making sure of that. As he walked toward the castle, he recalled several lines from a poem he'd read many years ago: _"Things fall apart; the center cannot hold / Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world; / The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere / The ceremony of innocence is drowned; / **The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity**." _It was a disturbing thought. _Does that make me one of the worst? Certainly Bellatrix is... passionate intensity..._ And he had shared that profound moment of "passionate intensity" with Bellatrix. Was she truly _evil_? If so, was he as well...?

"No," he answered himself aloud. _After all, _he thought_, the world is not painted in black and white. People like Dumbledore are not perfectly **good**, just as people like Bellatrix and Lucius are not wholly **evil**. And I'm caught somewhere between those extremes..._ Snape understood that there was a certain amount of darkness in everyone. Some people's souls just happened to be more blackened than others...

It's odd the way life works: usually, Snape felt miserable all the time for no particular reason, even when he hadn't done anything wrong; yet tonight, he'd committed a reasonably appalling atrocity, and -- despite his knowledge that he would feel terrible in the morning -- he didn't, at present, feel bad at all. He _should _feel awful. But he didn't. He scowled inwardly at his own callousness. "_The darkness drops again_..." Still... as he entered the familiar comfort of the castle, he did not particularly regret his actions. Not in that moment, at least. He felt oddly at peace. He still hated his life, of course -- that wasn't likely to change anytime soon. ...But for for the first time in months he didn't feel an overwhelming desire to kill himself. And perhaps, for tonight, that was enough.

**.4.**

**_The Second Coming _**

_Turning and turning in the widening gyre  
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;  
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;  
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,  
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere  
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;  
The best lack all conviction, while the worst  
Are full of passionate intensity. _

_  
Surely some revelation is at hand;  
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.  
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out  
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi  
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert  
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,  
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,  
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it  
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.  
The darkness drops again; but now I know  
That twenty centuries of stony sleep  
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,  
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,  
Slouches towards __Bethlehem__ to be born? _

- William Butler Yeats_  
_**.4.**

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**NOTE**: The fact that Bellatrix and Snape shared "a moment" does _not _mean that they are going to become romantically involved in any way, nor will they suddenly be on good terms in future chapters. It was just one of those "caught up in the moment" things. 

If any of you read this far, I apologize for the angsty ending. I really didn't mean for it to go this way. And it will never, _ever _be serious like this again. I really don't do drama.

**Anyway... thanks for reading, and please review.**


	5. The Beached Whale

**101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life**

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As promised, no more drama! And thank you again to my reviewers! I can't even begin to tell you guys how much fun I'm having writing this. 

**Note**: I make a brief mention of Ann Coulter in this chapter. For those of you who may not know, she is a fairly radical conservative (in the U.S.). I say a couple of 'not nice' things about her, but I'm definitely _not _trying to take sides (politically). While it is true that I absolutely _detest _her, my feelings have less to do with her personal politics, and more to do with her abrasive, grotesque personality.

**Disclaimer**: You know the drill. Not mine, blah blah blah.

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.5.

Chapter 5: The Beached Whale

It was September 2nd, and Severus Snape was sitting at the Head table in the Great Hall. He was the first to arrive, and he was hoping to finish his breakfast quickly and escape before Dolores Umbridge put in an appearance. He had met her the previous evening at the start of term feast, and the fact that Dumbledore had allowed the Ministry to appoint her as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (rather than just allowing _him _to have the job) had made him slightly suicidal. He glanced up as Professor McGonagall approached.

"Good morning, Severus," she said.

"Oh?" said Snape irritably. "Is there something good about it?"

"Why, of course," she said, with a knowing smirk. "The start of a new year. Another chance to bring enlightenment to agile young minds. Surely nothing could be better?"

Snape made a noncommittal grunt and poured himself some more coffee. He hoped McGonagall would leave him alone. But, _predictably_, she didn't.

"I haven't heard you say anything about our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Severus. Usually, you're the first to comment."

He raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Dolores Umbridge," she said, with a tinge of asperity. She obviously didn't think his feigned ignorance was very amusing. "The new teacher."

"Ah, was _that _the new professor?" he asked in mock-surprise. "Oh my. I'm afraid I mistook her for a beached whale wrapped in a fuzzy pink tarp."

The corners of McGonagall's mouth twitched. Snape could swear he heard her mutter the words "snarky bastard" under her breath before continuing: "Yes, I'm afraid that is the newest addition to our estimable staff."

"Alas, if only I had known. She must have thought it _so _rude when I offered to hose her down last night."

"Now, Severus," came the voice of Albus Dumbledore, "you mustn't poke fun at our newly appointed faculty member."

Snape and McGonagall looked up at the Headmaster as he passed them and headed toward his own seat. Snape scowled. "Never fear, Headmaster. I would never dream of poking _anything _at Dolores Umbridge, for fear that it would sink into her considerable bulk and I mightn't get it back."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm you'll find something you like about her."

"Oh, but I already have," replied Snape scathingly. "I rather enjoyed the spectacle of watching her consume more treacle tart at the feast last night than Hagrid. I wasn't aware that such a feat was possible. I commend her and her bottomless gullet."

McGonagall suppressed a laugh, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but neither said anything: they'd noticed that Umbridge was entering the Hall. Her attire was so pink and nauseating that Snape couldn't help but think it would make the Dark Lord proud. She had a horrible, simpering smile pasted to her face, and she sat down right next to him. He sighed, picked up his copy of _The Daily Prophet_, and buried himself in it, hoping she would leave him alone if he ignored her.

But, _predictably_, she didn't.

"Well, Severus," she said in her unnaturally girlish voice, "I was so pleased to meet you last night, and I hate that we didn't get more of an opportunity to talk."

"I'm sure numerous opportunities will present themselves in the future," he said absently, still not taking his eyes off the paper.

"You know," she continued, "Lucius Malfoy has always been very fond--"

"Perhaps," Snape interrupted, "it would be better if we talked later." He searched for a good excuse. Finding none, he improvised and said, "You see, I've had a bit of deafness in my left ear ever since I was a child -- terrible potions accident, you know..."

"Oh that's alright!" she said in an excruciatingly noisy voice. "I can speak a bit more loudly!"

"Obviously..."

"As I was saying, I spoke with Lucius just last week -- he's a delightful man, really -- and he suggested that I look to Slytherin House if I had any problems adjusting. Not that there would be problems, of course." She smiled stupidly.

"Oh, of course not," muttered Snape, feeling thoroughly annoyed.

"Lucius said his son Draco would be willing to help me if I needed anything."

"Yes. Draco is... most helpful."

"So I assume I'll be able to count on your House for anything I may need?"

"I am sure you will find Slytherin House to be very accommodating, Dolores."

"Fantastic. You know..." she trailed off and gave Snape a sickening smile. "I wondered whether you _yourself _would be willing to... _accommodate _me?"

Snape choked on his coffee and dropped his mug to the floor, where it shattered. He regained his composure quickly and looked at her warily. "I... will do everything in my power to ensure that your stay at Hogwarts is..." He trailed off, unsure of how to finish his statement without saying anything that could be construed as a sexual innuendo. "...Well... to ensure that your stay is... pleasant," he finished lamely.

"Wonderful," she said, giggling girlishly. "Do you think it would be possible for you to come to my quarters tonight around 10:00?"

Professor McGonagall snorted loudly as Snape's eyes widened. "I wonder," he said slowly, "_what _you believe could be achieved in your quarters that could not be just as easily accomplished elsewhere?" McGonagall snorted again at the implications of this statement, and Snape picked up an orange and threw it (as surreptitiously as possible) in her general direction. Fortunately, Umbridge didn't notice. She wasn't paying much attention to McGonagall. In fact, she wasn't paying much attention to anything other than Snape's face.

"Oh nothing, really," said Umbridge with a wave of her chubby hand. "I'm working on a list of potions I'd like you to supply me with."

"And could this list not be delivered to me by owl?"

"Well, I have some questions to ask about a few of them."

"And could those questions not _also _be submitted by owl?" he asked, clearly irritated.

"Perhaps so," she admitted, "but it would be much faster if we could talk in person. Besides, I'd love the chance to get to know you better! Like I said, Lucius always--"

"I'm so sorry," Snape cut her off. "As much as I would like to be of assistance, I am afraid I have prior engagements which must be attended to immediately." He turned to Dumbledore. "Didn't you ask me to help you with something tonight, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he shook his head. "No, no, Severus. Luckily for us, it is _tomorrow _night that I need you. You will be able to help Dolores tonight."

Snape gave Dumbledore a look full of meaning and asked, "Are you _quite _certain, Headmaster? Do you not think it would be -- ah -- _prudent _to go ahead and complete our scheduled work tonight? That would save you a great deal of--"

"You know, I believe you may be overworked, Severus," interrupted Dumbledore. "Is work _all _you think about? Don't let it worry you. Go ahead and help our new professor this evening."

Snape glanced back at Umbridge, who looked positively delighted. He turned to McGonagall in desperation and asked, "Ah, yes, now I recall my mistake. It wasn't the Headmaster who needed me tonight, was it? Didn't _you _need something, Minerva?" He gave her a pleading look.

"No, Severus," she replied, with a slightly mischievous smile, "I believe you are _still _mistaken. I have no need of you. But... I believe Dolores does."

He glowered at McGonagall for a moment before turning back to Umbridge, who was looking at him expectantly. "Well?" she asked. "10:00?"

Snape nodded mutely and excused himself from the table so that he wouldn't have to see the shit-eating grin which had appeared on Umbridge's face.

**.5.**

The day went by far too quickly for Snape. As evening drew on, a profound feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. When 9:50 rolled around, and he realized he couldn't delay any longer, he gritted his teeth in determination and left the dungeon. His feet dragged as he made his way to Umbridge's quarters. When he arrived, he hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath, thought, _If things get out of hand, I can always kill myself_, and knocked on the door.

Umbridge jerked the door open seconds later, and Snape gawked at her with a look of horror on his face. She was wearing a pink (_of course_) silk nightgown, which was low-cut and inappropriately short, and she had smeared an appalling amount of make-up all over her fat face. Snape briefly considered blinding himself or -- at the very least -- casting the Conjunctivitus Curse on himself, but he ultimately decided against it when he realized that she would have an easier time manhandling him if he couldn't see well enough to defend himself. _I hate my life_, he thought miserably. He opened his mouth to say something, but he was so overcome with despair that no sound came out. Umbridge, on the other hand, had no trouble speaking.

"Severus!" she cried happily. "I'm so glad you're here. Please come in."

He mumbled something that was not easily identifiable as speech and followed her reluctantly into the room.

PINK.

Pink, pink, pink, it was _all _pink. It was _ghastly_. The couch was pink, the picture frames were pink, the chairs were pink, the tablecloth was pink, the... the _everything _was pink. Snape looked around queasily and said nothing. He _loathed _pink.

"As you can see," she began, "I'm already pretty well settled in."

She was staring at him, and he supposed she was looking for some kind of response. Still unable to speak, he nodded and gazed around the room, trying to find something inoffensive to look at. There was nothing. It was all nauseatingly... _sweet_.

"Well, don't be a stranger!" she said. "Take off your robes and stay awhile."

Snape gaped at her. "...Did... did you just instruct me to remove my robes?"

She blushed. "Oh! No, I... I _meant _to say take off your _cloak_. Pardon me. Slip of the tongue, I'm afraid. Just a little accident..."

"Freud always insisted that there _are _no accidents," returned Snape coldly.

"Who's Freud?" she asked vacuously.

He had to fight to suppress a sneer, but he managed it. "Nevermind."

"Shall we have tea, then?" she asked.

"No thank you."

"Why not?"

"I... don't drink tea."

"But I've seen you--" she began.

"Yes, but it will keep me awake all night!"

"Don't worry!" she said brightly. "I have decaf."

He scowled and muttered, "Fine."

She retreated to the next room to prepare the tea, and Snape reached into his robes and pulled out three vials full of potion. One would prevent him from being affected by any love potion Umbridge might try to slip him, one would protect him against any bizarre aphrodisiacs she might try to use, and the other would ensure that he wouldn't fall asleep in the event that she gave him anything intended render him unconscious. He'd considered them a necessary precaution, and he gulped down all three quickly.

She returned with the tea a few minutes later and handed him a cup. Despite his preventative measures, he was still a bit nervous, and he eyed his drink suspiciously. She sat down beside him on the couch. He was already annoyed that she'd sat down rather closer to him than he would have preferred, but to make matters worse, her cat chose that moment to dart into the room and leap into its owner's lap. It had a mean look about it, and it was ludicrously fat. _Takes after its owner_, Snape thought. It had a hideous, frilly, pink bow tied to its equally hideous pink collar. It hissed angrily at him, as if it could hear his thoughts, and he glowered at it.

"Aw, and here's my baby!" cried Umbridge dotingly. "Isn't she a pretty girl?"

Snape grunted.

"Her name is Princess Peach the Petite."

Snape sneered in the cat's direction. There was nothing _petite _about Princess Peach. "Your capacity for alliteration astounds me, Dolores," he said sardonically.

Oblivious to the veiled insult, Umbridge beamed at him. She continued cooing over the revolting beast for a few minutes and asked Snape to pet it. Snape declined, insisting that he was allergic. _Allergic to FAT_, he thought cruelly. He gazed at her with a look of distaste on his face as he watched her display her unending affection for the foul little creature. Bored and irritated, Snape decided that the only way to survive the evening was to entertain himself by making vague insults every few minutes, and then see how long it took Umbridge to catch on.

"So," he began, "have you ever seen the movie _Free Willy_, Dolores?"

"_Free Willy_?" she repeated moronically.

"It's a muggle film," he explained.

"Of course not!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I would never participate in anything muggle-related!"

"Ah, how unfortunate. I think you should make an exception in this case. The film is about _whales_, you see. I think you might find that you have something of... an _affinity _with whales."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I also think you should make an exception in the case of a muggle film titled _The Blob_. I'm fairly certain you might be related to the -- ah -- main 'character'."

She stared at him stupidly for a moment and then decided to change the subject to something she understood. "So, Severus. Tell me about Mr. Potter. He caused quite an upset in my class today."

"That is because everything about Potter is upsetting," spat Snape. "From the rat's nest that sits atop his head, to the fact that he stubbornly remains _alive_, he is upsetting -- in _every _respect."

"Well," said Umbridge coyly, "I'm glad we have something we can agree on." She inched closer to him on the couch.

"Yes, well... I'm afraid there will be little else," he said nervously. "I don't tend to agree with most people very often."

"I understand," she purred. (Actually, the purring sounded more like grotesque gargling.) "But then again, _I'm_ not most people."

"Er, no... and yet, somehow, you've managed to attain the _body mass _of several people. Very admirable, I'm sure."

She failed to pick up on the fact that he was essentially calling her a fatass. "You know, Severus," she said, smiling slyly. "I'm really enjoying our chat. You should _come _here more often."

A wave of nausea washed over him. _Did this barbarous glutton just make an **orgasm **pun?? _he asked himself, utterly horrified. She scooted closer. Her beefy legs were almost touching him.

"Ah, yes..." he said, feeling extremely uncomfortable. "Well, I am afraid I rarely find time to associate with... _coworkers_."

"And yet you found the time for me tonight!" she cried ecstatically, taking his statement in entirely the wrong way.

"Ah, well, about that-- I... Well, I was put in a bit of an awkward position-- ...A predicament, you see--"

She placed her hand on his leg, and he recoiled violently, as if he'd been struck. Just then, her contemptible cat, who had been sitting on her lap, jumped at Snape's face. Princess Peach had been disturbed by his sudden movement, and she intended to make him pay for it. She knocked the hot cup of tea out of his hand, and it spilled all over his robes; then, while he was distracted by the boiling liquid, she took a swipe at him and buried her claws in his nose.

"GODDAMMIT!" he bellowed. He leapt to his feet and pointed his wand at Princess Peach, who suddenly realized she'd fucked with the wrong wizard and streaked out of the room. Despite her disappearance, he continued to yell at her: "Goddammit, you stupid cat! Damn you to the unholy bowels of Dante's twisted, monstrous, MOTHERFUCKING hell! I HATE cats! And people wonder WHY!"

"Oh, my poor Princess!" cried Umbridge in alarm. She wheeled around to face Snape. "How COULD you?!"

"What are you _talking _about, you elephantine monstrosity?! Your fucking cat attacked me!"

"What did you just call me?!?" she shrieked shrilly.

"I called you a gargantuan, porcine, ponderous BEAST! A colossal, SODDING leviathan!!!"

"How DARE you call me such names?!?"

"How DARE you deny them?! For god's sake, woman, you have your own gravitational pull!"

"I'LL HAVE YOU FIRED FOR THIS!" she screamed.

"I would _love _to see you try," said Snape coolly.

"I was appointed by the Ministry, Severus! I'll owl them tonight, and they'll drag you out of here by the scruff of your neck!"

"Ah," said Snape sleekly, "but how are you going to owl them when you don't even remember what happened?"

"What are you talking about, you--"

Snape cut her off as he whipped out his wand and yelled, "_Obliviate!_" A blank, vapid expression (_not unlike her usual expression, actually_, thought Snape) passed over her face, and he Stunned her before she had time to realize what had happened. She fell limply back onto the couch. He raced over to her desk to find a quill and something to write on.

"Oh GOD," he groaned in disgust, as he realized that the only parchment available was covered in pink and purple kittens. He couldn't bear to touch it. He conjured a quill and a _normal _piece of parchment and hastily wrote, "_Thank you for the tea. So sorry you fell asleep, but I quite understand. The first day of classes is always exhausting. -- S.S_." He rushed back over to the couch and cleaned up the spilled tea. Then he fled the room, eager to escape before she regained consciousness.

He was seething with rage as he made his way back to the dungeons. He was fairly certain he was going to vomit, and he vowed to put an end to that abhorrent abomination she so blithely referred to as a _cat_. Why -- of _all _the men in the castle -- why was _he _the one she'd decided to molest? _GOD, I hate my life_, he thought furiously. _This would never happen to **anyone **else! _He made a mental note to _always _carry poison with him wherever he went for the rest of his life. If he'd had a bit of poison handy 15 minutes ago, that experience would have been far less unpleasant. He wasn't sure who he would have killed -- Umbridge or himself -- but either way, it would have been _extremely _satisfying.

**.5.**

The next day, he arrived at breakfast late for three reasons. First, he wanted to make sure he got there _after _Umbridge sat down so that he could avoid sitting next to her. Second, he was genuinely exhausted and had found it quite difficult to drag himself out of bed. Third, he had snuck off to Umbridge's quarters again that morning so that he could take a picture of Princess Peach the Petite. He had stayed up late the previous night, trying to figure out how to ensure that the horrid beast came to an untimely end. Finally, it had occurred to him to dispose of the wretched animal in a _very _Slytherin fashion: he would manipulate someone _else _into killing it. So he'd rewritten his lesson plans and double-checked the store cupboard to make sure the necessary ingredients were available.

And now, as he sat down to breakfast next to Professor McGonagall (who had also taken care to sit quite a few seats away from Umbridge), he was simultaneously irritable and eager: he was annoyed with life in general, but he couldn't wait to set his plan into motion. Umbridge, who remembered little of the previous evening, waved at him in an embarrassingly enthusiastic manner. He grunted in response and poured himself a large cup of coffee.

McGonagall smiled at him and said, "Well, Severus. Dolores seems quite glad to see you. I trust your... _encounter _last night went well?"

"No, Minerva," he said softly, "my encounter last night made me extremely suicidal and vaguely _homicidal_. Unless you are determined to discover _exactly _how homicidal it has made me, you would do better to choose another topic of conversation."

"Oh, Severus, don't be so dramatic."

He glared at her for a second before returning to his coffee. He wasn't very hungry. He still felt a bit sick from his dreadful experience the night before. Suddenly, he noticed that Umbridge was making girlish little throat-clearing noises. He and McGonagall ignored her. The throat-clearing became progressively louder, and he began to think he had almost reached the limit of his capacity for tolerating annoying behavior.

"Oh dear," Snape muttered to McGonagall, "it sounds as if Dolores has something caught in her _blowhole_."

McGonagall smiled wryly and said, "Best to ignore her, I think."

But she too soon found that the throat-clearing behavior had become unbearably obnoxious. Turning to Umbridge, she said, "If your throat is bothering you so _tremendously_, Dolores, perhaps you should visit the hospital wing."

Umbridge looked at her in surprise and replied, "No, no, Minerva. Actually, I just wanted a word with Severus -- about last night." She smiled impishly and winked.

Everyone stared at Snape as if they'd never seen him before. He glared angrily back at them, defying them to question him. After about 90 seconds, when their horrified expressions persisted, he stood up abruptly and snarled, "_Excuse _me. I need to take a _piss_."

Ignoring the staff's stares (and Umbridge's fervent attempts to gain his acknowledgment), he stalked off toward the dungeons.

**.5.**

His first class that morning would be Gryffindor and Slytherin first years. He had decided that the best way to handle this was to drop several not-so-subtle hints and hope that at least _one _of his students had the nerve to do what he was suggesting. He planned to give the same speech to _all _the first and second years. Children of that age are usually impressionable, and they are often still seeking acceptance -- so perhaps they would be more inclined to follow up on his... advice.

Snape walked briskly into the dungeon, robes billowing behind him, and the room fell silent at once. Snape surveyed the class critically for a moment before saying, **"**Put your textbooks away. We shall not be using them today."

The students did as they were told without comment.

"Now then," said Snape softly. "Today we will be making a simple potion called 'The Gentle Quiet'. It is not a particularly powerful potion, but its strength lies in its ability to remain undetected in the bloodstream. Often, when a death occurs with no discernible cause, the Ministry will conduct an inquiry. _Most_ poisons are easily discovered, which frequently leads to the capture and subsequent imprisonment of the guilty party. As I said, _this _poison is not terribly virulent. It would require a very large dose to kill a human being. It also causes a painless death. It is simple to make, and the ingredients required are inexpensive. Thus, it is most often used to put small animals to sleep."

The class stared at him, wondering why the hell he was asking them to make a potion which was only useful for killing small animals. They all figured Snape seemed like the kind of person who would want to kill much larger creatures (specifically, _people_).

"Dogs and _cats _are frequently _put down _in this manner. ...Speaking of _cats_, I trust you are all aware that Dolores Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, has a cat. In fact," he said, as he reached inside his robes, "I believe I have a photograph."

He took the picture out of his robes and laid it on a table next to a somewhat frightened-looking Gryffindor. The boy stared at it nervously but didn't pick it up. Snape scowled at him. "Well, _go on_, Mr. Everett. Look at it, and pass it around the room." The boy jumped a little at being addressed directly. He picked up the photo, made a great show of studying it, and then passed it to the girl next to him.

"As you can see," continued Snape softly, "this cat is -- like her owner -- very _large_. In order to kill an animal of this size, approximately three ounces of the poison we are brewing today would be required." He paused, waiting to see if anyone was anywhere near figuring out what he was trying to tell them. They all stared at him blankly. _Idiots_.

He glared at them. "I should hate to think that anything... _unfortunate _might befall Professor Umbridge's beloved pet," he said silkily. "..._Should _such a thing occur, however, the student or students responsible would gain their House 50 points." He smirked as he noticed the looks of dawning comprehension on his students' faces. The Gryffindors stared at him, aghast, whereas the Slytherins nudged each other with their elbows and winked at their friends.

"Your instructions are on the board," he said, and they appeared there as he waved his wand. "Ingredients are in the store cupboard. Carry on."

**.5.**

Around noon, two days later, an owl flew into his quarters and landed on his desk. It extended its leg, and Snape removed the crinkled, rolled-up photograph. It was a picture of a _very _dead Princess Peach the Petite. On the back, someone had drawn an elaborate silver-and-green 'S'. Snape smiled. _This why I love my House_. "Fifty points to Slytherin," he said aloud. _I think I might get this photograph framed_, he thought to himself. _But I wish someone had actually **brought **me the cat. Then I could have given it to the house elves and instructed them to cook it and serve it to Umbridge at her next meal_. _Ah, well. You can't have everything. I should go praise my Slytherins for this. It's always wise to reinforce good behavior._

**.5.**

That evening, Snape headed for the Slytherin common room. When he arrived and stepped inside, he saw that Draco was sitting in a chair near the hearth, scribbling on a piece of parchment and ignoring everyone in the vicinity. Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode were sitting in the chairs surrounding Draco, talking about which jinxes to use on the Gryffindors in the corridors the next day. Everyone looked up when Snape entered.

"What's up, Prof?" said Draco cheekily.

"You know I dislike that, Draco," replied Snape sternly.

"Sorry... But what's going on?"

"In a moment..." He glanced over to the other side of the room and saw a small group of second years doing their schoolwork. He picked Malcolm Baddock out of the crowd and said, "Malcolm, go upstairs and tell all the boys -- not just your year -- to come down to the common room." He turned to Millicent. "You go fetch the girls." The two students nodded obediently and rushed out of the room.

Draco had gone back to his scribbling. "What are you writing?" asked Snape.

"A letter," replied Draco.

"To whom?"

"Trey Parker and Matt Stone."

Snape furrowed his brow in confusion. "Who?"

"They're muggles," explained Draco.

Snape rolled his eyes. "So the letter you're writing -- is it a death threat?"

"No."

"Then why are you writing it?"

"Well..." began Draco hesitantly. "They're the creators of _South Park _-- a muggle T.V. show. I'm writing them to ask if they'll do an episode where they show Ann Coulter eating a baby."

"_What_?"

"Well, it just seems like the sort of thing Ann Coulter would do! And it would be funny! Really funny!" Draco looked over at Pansy and said, "Pansy agrees. Don't you, Pansy?"

"Absolutely!" exclaimed Pansy immediately.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Pansy, you're only saying that because you're looking for a way to get into Draco's _pants_. I know good and goddamn well you don't watch television."

Pansy blushed and looked away.

Snape looked back at Draco and said, "You do _not _need to become involved in muggle politics. Especially _American _politics."

"I'm not becoming involved!" cried Draco defensively. "No one really pays the _South Park _people any attention. And you _know _Ann Coulter eats babies. And she's got that crazy, manly Adam's apple. Don't deny it."

"Yes," agreed Snape grudgingly, "Ann Coulter is undoubtedly a heinous beast, and I am certain she has consumed a considerable number of small children, but--"

"I won't get in trouble," Draco interrupted. "I'm not going to sign the letter or anything. And I'll have it delivered by muggle post."

Snape sighed. "Very well. But please refrain from saying anything about it to your father. And put the letter away for now."

Draco grinned and put the piece of parchment under a book. Then he folded his hands in his lap and looked up at Snape with a ridiculous (and intentionally exaggerated) air of attentiveness and fascination. Snape smirked and shook his head slightly.

A few minutes later, most of Slytherin House was gathered in the common room. The ones who were missing were probably either in the library or off somewhere else, tormenting the other students. Snape sincerely hoped it was the latter.

Once all his students were gathered together and looking at him expectantly, he cleared his throat and said, "Now. I only need a few minutes of your time. Then you can all go back to doing... whatever it is you do. First of all, I would like to thank the party or parties responsible for the recent... _disposal _of Professor Umbridge's feline companion. As you may have noticed, 50 points were rewarded to Slytherin the moment I received notice."

Everyone in the room grinned. Several of the first years looked like they were about to speak, but Snape forestalled them, holding up his hand and saying, "I have no desire to know _exactly _who is responsible, but I have a general idea. I'll have you know that you are a credit to your House. I also must ask you to practice the utmost discretion in this matter, as I fear that an open acknowledgment of your accomplishment (and I _assure _you, it is a worthy and much-appreciated accomplishment) might very well be the _last _thing you do at Hogwarts."

He looked around the room to ensure that his students were taking his words to heart. "That brings me to the second thing I came here to tell you--" He stopped abruptly, because he had just noticed that Pansy was paying absolutely no attention. She was too busy ogling Malfoy (in a very salacious manner) to listen.

"Miss Parkinson!" barked Snape sharply. "Do you think you could exercise sufficient self-control to prevent yourself from staring at Mr. Malfoy's _crotch _whilst I am speaking? Your relentless _drooling _is rather distracting."

Everyone but Draco and Pansy burst out laughing. She blushed furiously and stared down at the ground, while Draco curled his lip in distaste.

Snape waited for the laughter to die down before continuing. "Now, as I was saying... I suggest you all tread carefully when in the presence of Dolores Umbridge. While I understand that some of you may find her _unpleasant_--"

"Oh, I don't know what you're talking about, Professor," interrupted Bletchley sarcastically. "I think she's absolutely _delightful_. Such a talented teacher. Extremely knowledgeable."

"Oh, yeah," sneered Montague. "Knows _loads _about the Dark Arts, that one."

"I _realize_," began Snape, "that she is nigh _intolerable_--"

"Actually, I disagree," said Draco, grinning. "I kind of like her. She gives Potter even more detentions than _you _do, Professor."

Several people snickered. "Yeah, it looks like you've got some competition, sir," said Harper.

Snape smirked. "I shall have to remedy that. My point in making this little speech, however, is to warn all of you to be on your best behavior around _Professor _Umbridge." His sneer betrayed his disgust at the thought that anyone might consider her a legitimate professor. "Draco, I have recently spoken with your father, and he intimated to me that -- if events play out as the Ministry intends -- Umbridge may find herself in possession of an unprecedented amount of power at Hogwarts."

"So... basically, you came down here to tell us to 'play nice'?" asked Draco.

"Well," began Snape thoughtfully, "what I am saying is that you need to 'behave yourselves' around _her_. What you do with the rest of your time is of far less concern to me, provided your actions do not result in the loss of House points. Do you understand?"

Everyone nodded, except for Pansy, who was still staring at her feet. "Good," said Snape in satisfaction. "Oh, and Montague?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Please ensure that your team is prepared for its first match this season. I absolutely _cannot _bear another year of Minerva's interminable gloating, so I am relying on you to win the Quidditch Cup."

"Yes, sir," said Montague uneasily.

"Very well," said Snape, nodding. And with that, he swept out of the room.

**.5.**

As he headed back to the dungeons, he reflected on his poor luck. Why was he _always _the one who had these terrible things happen to him? What had he done in this life -- or a past life -- to deserve this? Surely he hadn't done anything terrible enough that it merited the sort of perverted punishment Dolores Umbridge had attempted to mete out a few nights ago? Hell, the Dark Lord hadn't done anything _that _bad!

Well... maybe that wasn't true; after all, there was that time the Dark Lord locked Snape and Bellatrix in the rec room at the YMCA for a week and instructed them to get along, 'or else'. Being locked up hadn't been so bad, really. The thing that had bothered Snape most was the Dark Lord's decision to charm the room so that it played a bunch of 'friendship' songs over and over. He and Bellatrix had been forced to listen to _Lean on Me _at least 136 times. _You've Got a Friend _by James Taylor, _Wind Beneath My Wings _by Bette Midler (_oh god, the horror!)_, and _I'll Be There For You _by The Rembrandts had been played a maddening number of times. Actually, Snape wasn't sure whether_ I'll Be There For You _had been chosen because it was about friendship, or whether the Dark Lord had picked it because he was obsessed with the show _Friends _at the time. The evil bastard had even played the Barney theme song. He'd finally released Snape and Bellatrix from the room because he saw that they had crawled into each others' arms and were crying uncontrollably. Granted, they were crying together because they were both so close to losing their minds, but the Dark Lord said it was 'good enough'.

Yes, on second thought, the Dark Lord deserved Umbridge.

And yet, in the months to come, it would be Snape who would have to deal with that bloody beached whale on a daily basis. _Unless_, he thought morbidly, _I finally go ahead and kill myself..._

**.5.**

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**Thanks for reading. Please review!**


	6. It's Raining Men

**101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life **

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Thank you for the reviews, guys! This chapter isn't _half _as long as it looks. It's about 90 percent dialogue.

**NOTE:** Considering the nature of this chapter, I think I should mention that 70 percent of my male friends are gay -- so I promise _nothing _in this chapter is actually intended to be bigoted in any way. And I'm not trying to make fun of religious people, either. I am, however, criticizing religious whack-jobs who go totally out of their way to harass homosexuals and other minorities. I also make a comment about slash at one point, but I would like to point out that I actually read slash on occasion. I just felt like making a crack about it because I think the preponderance of slash fanfic on the internet is bizarre.

**Disclaimer**: ...Do I even have to say it?

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.6.

Chapter 6: It's Raining Men

It was 1:30 PM on September 17th, and Severus Snape was standing in Professor Dumbledore's office, trying to weasel his way out of attending the afternoon staff meeting. _Predictably_, things weren't going well.

"What obligations are more pressing than our meeting, Severus?" asked Dumbledore.

"It's my mother," replied Snape "She's not well."

"Severus, you and I both know very well that your mother is dead."

"...Er, yes... as I said, she's not well. Not well at all."

"I'm afraid I'll need a better excuse than that," said Dumbledore, somewhat crossly.

"Well, actually, it's my sister. She's got... the Ebola virus."

Dumbledore sighed. "We also both know that you do not have a sister. These lies are terrible, Severus. How on earth do you fool Lord Voldemort?"

"The Dark Lord is... an idiot."

"If you give me a valid reason, you know I will allow you to skip the meeting."

Snape sighed. "I have to take Lucius to a therapy session."

Dumbledore stared at him for a few seconds before asking, "Do I even _want _to know why Lucius Malfoy needs to see a therapist?"

"Definitely not."

"Very well. Please see Minerva when you return. She can fill you in on anything you missed."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Snape rushed out of the office and began his trek toward the Hogwarts gates. He was in a terrible mood. He wasn't looking forward to dragging Lucius to therapy. He was also feeling slightly guilty: he had been so busy over the past three weeks that he'd forgotten to check on Lucius and Rodolphus after that disastrous Muggle Hunt. He wasn't actually that worried about Rodolphus; after all, if he could survive being married to Bellatrix, he could handle pretty much anything. Lucius, on the other hand, was a bit more delicate. Narcissa had called Snape a few days ago and asked if he'd be willing to take Lucius to a therapy session. Apparently, he was doing very poorly. Narcissa was at a loss -- she had no idea how to help him. So she sent out about 50 owls and finally managed to locate the only pureblood therapist (who wasn't a Gryffindor) in England. And now Snape had to take Lucius to see him.

_This is going to be hell,_ he thought. _Escorting Lucius to therapy? This promises to be nightmarish. This is yet another **really good **reason to hate my life. ...Not that I need another reason._

**.6.**

At 2:00, Snape arrived at Malfoy Manor and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, a house elf answered the door.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Snape.

"I is being Buttmunch, sir. May Buttmunch be taking your cloak?"

Snape rolled his eyes theatrically. Where the hell did Lucius find these creatures? What kind of name was _Buttmunch_? "No," he told the elf. "I'll be leaving again in a few minutes." The elf bowed, and Snape followed him into the parlor, where Narcissa was already waiting for him.

"Oh, Severus, thank you so much for coming!" she cried. "I thought he'd be more comfortable with you."

Snape noticed that her eyes were red and puffy. He guessed she'd been crying. "How is he?" he asked.

"Not well, I'm afraid. He's a bit... _off_."

"But he's speaking again?"

"Yes," she replied. "He started talking again about three days after the hunt."

"Really?" said Snape, relieved. "How did you manage to get through to him? We couldn't get a word out of him that night."

"Well, at first he wouldn't speak to me, either. But then it occurred to me that it might help if I regrew his hair. So I did, and then I went to Diagon Alley and bought him a new hairbrush."

"How much did the brush cost?"

"4,780 galleons. It's made of gold and inlaid with diamonds."

"Ahh," said Snape. "No wonder he feels better."

"Yes. _He _seems to feel better, but _I _don't. He's driving me mad."

"What has he been doing?"

Narcissa scowled. "He's been sitting in his room watching _The Rocky Horror Picture Show _over and over."

"Oh dear..."

"Yes. He even dragged me upstairs and forced me to do the _Time Warp _with him!"

"Oh, god," said Snape queasily, "I'm so sorry."

"_And_," she added, "he's dressing and speaking very... _unusually_."

"How so?"

"You'll see in a moment. I can't explain. Or perhaps I just don't want to. I can't bear to think about it."

As they talked, they slowly made their way toward the staircase. Snape paused when he heard music. "What's that song?" he asked.

"It's _Y.M.C.A. _by the Village People. He plays it constantly!"

"Oh my..." He stopped again as they passed the living room. He noticed that the Pee-Wee's Playhouse decorations had been torn down. The whole room had been demolished. "Good lord, Narcissa. Did Lucius do this?"

"No, _I _did this. I couldn't take it anymore. Lucius had decided that he _liked _it. So I sort of... tore it down in a fit of rage. Lucius cried for hours."

"...Oh. That's a bit... uncharacteristically violent of you."

She nodded. "I know, I know. I lost my temper. He's just been acting so strangely. He wears make-up and spends all his time playing with his hair..."

"Well... yes, but he _always _spent most of his time playing with his hair," said Snape reasonably.

"It's gotten worse!"

"I see... Has the Dark Lord seen him like this?" asked Snape fearfully.

"No, the Dark Lord hasn't left his house in weeks."

"What has he been doing?"

"According to Bella, he's been making muffins."

"...Muffins?" asked Snape hesitantly.

"Yes. Bella's been over there with him a lot of the time."

"Why muffins?"

"I don't know," said Narcissa, sounding exasperated. "She said he told her he was in the mood for muffins."

"Okay..."

"Well... actually, if I remember correctly, Bella's exact words were: 'He was still riddling like crazy, and I couldn't tell whether he said he wanted to make muffins or whether he was trying to tell me he was in the mood to go _muff diving_, but I decided the muffins would be safer. Once we started making them, he seemed really happy, so I figure I guessed right.'"

"He's _still _riddling?" asked Snape, horrified.

"Apparently. Bella says she's gotten much better at figuring them out."

"So you're telling me they've been making muffins for _three straight weeks_?" asked Snape incredulously.

"Oh, no -- just for a few days," replied Narcissa.

"Well, what have they been doing since then?"

"Bella's been helping him with his riddles. He thinks he's getting better."

"Is he?" asked Snape hopefully.

"No."

They reached the bottom of the staircase and stood there for a moment, looking at each other. He felt so bad for her. She'd been trying to handle Lucius's bizarre behavior all by herself. Snape really should have helped her earlier.

He sighed. "I'm going up."

"Good luck," she breathed.

"Oh by the way," added Snape, "the next time Avery comes over, he's going to kill your house elf."

"What? Why?"

"Because Avery will think he called him a 'buttmunch'. Perhaps you should advise your elf to hold his tongue when people come to the door."

"...Oh... okay..." She looked very confused. Snape turned away from her and headed upstairs.

**.6.**

When he reached Lucius's room, he took a deep breath to steady himself. This was going to be _so _unpleasant. He placed his hand on the doorknob, hesitated for a moment, and then opened the door. When he entered the room, his eyes met a gruesome sight. It was the gayest thing he'd ever seen. The walls were painted purple, and rainbow flags had been tacked up all over the place. There were countless posters of Tim Curry (in full transvestite garb) from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. Elton John posters also abounded. Glow sticks were scattered all over the place. It looked like Lucius had been to a rave recently (or perhaps he'd hosted one in this very room). Hair clips littered the floor, and Lucius had thrown rose petals everywhere for no discernible reason. A massive pair of fake, ruby-red lips had been nailed to the wall. A curly blond wig was sitting on top of a bust, which was sitting beneath a huge autographed photo of Cher. There was even a large picture of Bob Dylan. Well... actually, that was okay. There's nothing gay about Bob Dylan.

Most disturbing of all, however, was Lucius himself, who was standing in the middle of the room wearing a black corset, a garter belt, fishnet stockings, and high black pumps. His fingernails were painted black, and Snape guessed that his toenails looked the same, though he couldn't tell from where he was standing. Lucius had a microphone in his hand and was singing animatedly along with a karaoke machine:

_"It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A.  
It's fun to stay at the Y.M.C.A.  
They have everything for young men to enjoy.  
You can hang out with all the boys."_

"Oh, holy hell," muttered Snape, "my best friend's a transvestite." He stared at Lucius for a few more seconds and then yelled to get his attention: "Lucius!" He didn't turn around. "Lucius! LUCIUS!" Lucius remained oblivious to his presence. Snape pointed his wand at the karaoke machine and thought, _Silencio!_

When the music stopped, Lucius froze and spun around. Seeing Snape, his face broke into a wide smile. "Theverus! I'm tho glad you came!"

Snape blinked. "Lucius... are you _lisping_?"

Lucius frowned. "What are thalking about, Thevy?"

"Goddammit, Lucius! Stop lisping, and don't call me 'Sevy'!"

"But that's your name, thilly!"

"I am not being _silly_, and it is NOT my name."

"Did you like my thinging?"

"No, it was dreadful. Stop lisping. Right now."

"Oh, Thevy, you're so upthight."

"GODDAMMIT, Lucius! Thop lithping! ...Oh holy fuck, did I just say 'thop lithping'?? Dammit, now you've got _me _doing it!"

"Calm down, thilly-billy," said Lucius airily.

Snape walked across the room and slapped him across the face, hard. "I SAID STOP LISPING!"

Lucius emitted a choked sob and pressed his hand against his face where Snape had struck him. He looked horribly upset, but at least he stopped lisping. "Oh my god. I can't believe you hit me!"

"Someone _needed _to hit you."

Lucius pouted and glared at Snape.

"Lucius, what's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Lucius, clearly confused.

"You're cross-dressing and singing homosexually-oriented songs!"

"Well, of course I am! I'm gay! I've _found _myself!" exclaimed Lucius ecstatically. "Fancy a snog, Sevy?"

_Oh my lord... I HATE my life,_ thought Snape. "No, I do not_ fancy a snog_. And if this is what happens when you _find _yourself, you need to _lose _yourself again -- and quickly!"

"Oh!" Lucius threw his head back in an overly dramatic gesture and covered his face with his hands. "My people are so repressed! Why must you look down on me because of my sexual orientation?"

"Lucius, you don't _have _a _people_, and you're _not _gay!"

"I am gay! Why can't you just accept me for who I am?!"

"Because you're not a fucking homosexual, you retarded fuck!" snarled Snape.

Lucius narrowed his eyes. "Why are you being so prejudiced? I thought you always said there's nothing wrong with being gay!"

"Well, there isn't _in general_, but _you're _not gay! You have a wife and child!"

"A lot of gay people get married and have children before they find themselves!" retorted Lucius.

"You haven't 'found yourself'! You're just confused!"

"You're trying to oppress me!"

Snape sighed. "Lucius, why don't you just call Bellatrix, go to a shopping mall, and kill 30 or 40 muggles? That should put you back in your right mind."

"I _am _in my right mind!"

"You're not gay, dammit! You can't be gay!"

"Oh? And why not?" asked Lucius loftily, very much resembling a haughty, petulant child.

"Because there _are _no gay wizards!" spat Snape. "Well, except for Rodolphus perhaps, but he doesn't count, since no one cares about him."

"What do you mean?"

"Lucius, haven't you ever noticed that not one single wizard in Rowling's universe has ever been described as gay?"

"Huh?"

"No gays!" yelled Snape. "Despite what slash fanfic writers may like to believe, there is _no _evidence of homosexuality in the _Harry Potter _books!"

"Whoa, Sevy. You might want to quit talking about J.K.R. You're breaking the fourth wall in a BIG way."

"Fuck the fourth wall," returned Snape. "This is important."

"Well," mused Lucius, "I just always figured she didn't mention anyone being gay because she didn't want her books to be controversial."

"But the books _are _controversial. Haven't you heard about those religious nut-jobs who claim that Rowling's books are evil? And that she's trying to get children to worship the Devil and practice the occult?"

"That's ridiculous!" exclaimed Lucius. "I don't believe it!"

"I know it's ridiculous, but it's true."

"Well... so what if it is? Just because a few loonies have decided Rowling's books turn kids into Satanists does NOT mean that Rowling _intentionally _writes controversial material. I'm sure there are plenty of queer wizards."

"No," insisted Snape, "if Rowling doesn't explicitly mention them, there aren't any."

"That's stupid. If you follow that logic, you have to assume that no wizard has ever committed rape or gotten an STD or cheated on his taxes."

Snape furrowed his brow. "Do we _have _taxes?"

"Uh... I'm not sure."

They stood there in silence for a moment, trying to recall whether they'd ever been asked to pay wizard taxes. Finally, Snape shook his head and said, "It doesn't matter. There are other reasons you can't be gay."

"Such as?"

Snape paused, trying to think of the best way to make homosexuality seem unappealing. "You can't be gay because... uhh... because gay people are... poor. Yes. Yes, that's right. They're poor. No money."

"What? Why?" asked Lucius in bewilderment.

"Err... because they spend all their money on lubes and... strap-ons... and edible undies... So they run out of money... and then they're... poor."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

"Don't say _stupidest_, Lucius!" barked Snape. "It isn't a word."

"Well, I don't believe you."

"...You don't believe me about gay people being poor, or you don't believe me about 'stupidest' not being a word?"

A confused look passed over Lucius's face. "Um. Both."

Snape was about to argue with him, but he was distracted by the sound of his phone ringing. It was playing _Barbie Girl _by Aqua. _Oh lord... this'll be Rodolphus_, he thought. He answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Sevy. Are you with Luce?" asked Rodolphus.

"I am with _Lucius_, if that's what you're asking. And don't call me Sevy."

"Let me talk to Luce."

"No! I'm not going to let you take advantage of Lucius while he's in this... fragile mental state."

"I'm not taking advantage! Luce _likes _me!" declared Rodolphus confidently.

"No he doesn't, you manipulative, flaming perv! He's confused! You know, I should just..." Snape trailed off. He was distracted by Lucius, who was off in his own little world, dancing stupidly and belting the lyrics to _Barbie Girl _as loudly as humanly possible:

"_I'm a Barbie girl, in the Barbie world! Life in plastic, it's fantastic! You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere! Imagination, life is your creation--"_

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, LUCIUS!" bellowed Snape. Lucius stopped singing and glared at Snape with a wounded expression on his face.

"Oh, let me talk to Luce!" begged Rodolphus.

"No, Rodolphus!" yelled Snape. "I refuse to allow you to pollute his mind any further!"

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Lucius. "Is that Dolphy on the phone? Let me talk to Dolphy!"

"Don't call him _Dolphy_, Lucius!" snarled Snape.

"Let me talk to him!" cried Rodolphus.

"No, you filthy little creampuff!" spat Snape. Then he turned to address Lucius: "We have to go. Get out of those stupid clothes."

Lucius's eyes widened hopefully.

"No!" hissed Snape, eager to correct Lucius's misinterpretation of his previous statement. "I _didn't _mean 'get out of those clothes' so that we can have sex! I meant go get dressed _properly_! I have to take you to therapy."

Lucius's face fell, but he nodded and wandered off toward the bathroom.

Snape had almost forgotten he was still on the phone, but Rodolphus reminded him a second later, saying, "Hey, Sevy -- are you coming with us?"

"What are you talking about?" Snape snapped irritably.

"Lucius didn't say anything to you?" inquired Rodolphus, sounding vaguely surprised.

"About _what_?"

Suddenly Snape noticed that there was a lot of screaming going on in the background. Rodolphus was talking to someone on the other end of the line.

"No!" came Rodolphus's muffled voice. "We're not going anywhere! I was just saying--"

"Who is that?" Snape asked. "Oh god, is that Bellatrix?"

"Yes," replied Rodolphus. "She wants to speak with you."

"I don't want to talk to her," said Snape firmly. "Don't you dare hand her the phone!"

"Here, just for a second," pleaded Rodolphus.

"No, dammit, I said I don't--"

"Stop bitching, Snape," Bellatrix interrupted.

"Dammit!" cried Snape in annoyance. "Why the hell did he give you the phone? I told him not to!"

"Shut up. I need to talk to you."

"About _what_?" Snape growled.

"About my fucking husband!" she cried. "I'm worried! You should see the way he's dressed right now! And he's been acting very... odd lately."

"No he hasn't," returned Snape. "This is normal behavior for him. Rodolphus is a screaming queen, and you just happen to be the only person who hasn't picked up on that fact."

"If you don't stop calling my husband gay, I'm going to murder you!"

"Face it, Bellatrix. He's as queer as a three dollar bill."

"...What's a 'dollar bill'?" asked Bellatrix in confusion.

"It's muggle money," explained Snape. "American muggle money."

"So what's so weird about a _three _dollar bill?"

"It doesn't exist," he snapped impatiently.

There was a long pause. Finally, Bellatrix asked, "So... so you're saying that gay people don't exist?"

Snape frowned. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't really remember what his point had been. "Just... nevermind. Look, we'll talk later. Call me tonight. But could you just put Rodolphus back on the line, please?"

She grumbled something in response, and a moment later, Snape heard Rodolphus saying, "Hello?"

"Listen," said Snape, "all I'm asking is that you don't make Lucius's life anymore difficult right now. He's having a lot of trouble..."

Snape trailed off as Lucius walked back into the room. He was wearing leather pants, a leather vest (with no shirt underneath), and leather boots. He had a black collar around his neck, and he wore spiked leather bracelets on his wrists. He was carrying a riding crop.

Snape stared at him dumbly. "Lucius... what in fuck's name are you _wearing_?"

Lucius smiled slyly and walked up to him casually. Then, more quickly than Snape could react, he grabbed the cell phone and screamed, "MEET US IN 10 MINUTES, DOLPHY!" Before Snape had time to figure out what the hell was going on, Lucius gripped his arm firmly and turned on the spot.

**.6. **

Moments later, a bizarre scene materialized before Snape's eyes. He definitely wasn't in England anymore. He looked around frantically, trying to get his bearings. There were people everywhere, and some of them were dressed very... peculiarly -- even for muggles. A lot of them were holding signs and waving at each other. Some of them were singing and holding hands. Snape stood there in stunned silence and stared at his surroundings, aghast, for several minutes.

Finally, he found his voice. "Wh-where are we?!"

Lucius beamed at him. "In America! At a gay pride parade!"

"Oh no..." whispered Snape. "I can't believe you..."

But before Snape had a chance to finish his sentence, Rodolphus and Bellatrix apparated beside him. Bellatrix was wearing her usual black robes, but Rodolphus was dressed quite unusually indeed. He was wearing ass-less chaps (which were, in Snape's opinion, extraordinarily disconcerting). He didn't have a shirt, but he'd tied a purple bandanna around his neck. He and Bellatrix both looked furious.

"Why'd you bring _her_?" demanded Lucius, indicating Bellatrix.

"I couldn't help it!" Rodolphus whined. "She grabbed hold of me as I was leaving."

The anger had melted from Bellatrix's face and been replaced by a look of profound bemusement. She stared vacantly at the people in the crowd, noting their colorful apparel and the numerous 'we're here and we're queer' T-shirts. "Whoa," she said. "I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore."

"We were never in Kansas, you irksome bitch!" growled Snape. "What are you, an American-Movie-Quotes Rolodex, or something?"

Bellatrix glared at him. "Well, where in the name of FUCK are we?!"

"At a gay pride parade!" spat Snape. "I _told _you Rodolphus was gay!"

She whirled around to face her husband and screamed, "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"N-Nothing!" he stammered nervously. "I-I'm not gay! But Lucius is! So... so I thought I'd bring him here... uh, you know, so that he could meet some of his own... kind. I only came because I didn't want him to have to go alone."

"Lucius isn't gay!" protested Bellatrix.

"Uhhh, are you sure about that?" asked Rodolphus. "I mean... look at him."

Bellatrix eyed Lucius warily and said nothing.

"I hate to interrupt this little marital spat," said Snape, "but how is it that none of these people noticed us apparate?"

"Lucky plot turn, I guess," answered Lucius.

"It's not a plot _turn_," began Snape, "it's a plot _hole_, you frilly little--"

"Can we just ignore it, please?" interrupted Bellatrix. "It doesn't really matter."

Snape turned to Lucius and said, "You _realize _of course, that these people are _muggles_. You're running around, cavorting with _muggles_!"

"It's different with these muggles, though," said Lucius. "We have something in common -- on a fundamental level."

"You idiot!" snarled Snape. "A muggle is a muggle! The fact that these happen to be fudge packers doesn't make them any better than any of the others!"

Bellatrix nodded. "As much as I hate to agree with Snape, he's _absolutely _right on this one."

"Well that was an impressive concession, Bellatrix," commented Snape.

She scowled. "It's the only one you're ever going to get, needle-dick."

"One more word to me, and I'm going to rape you with a barbed wire dildo," said Snape silkily.

"What's your obsession with barb wire?" she asked.

Lucius and Rodolphus had stopped paying attention to Bellatrix and Snape. "Oooh, I'm so excited!" squealed Rodolphus. "Let's move up a bit. I want to make sure we have a good view of the parade."

Lucius and Rodolphus began pushing their way through the crowd. Bellatrix and Snape shared a look and then reluctantly followed. They pushed and shoved for about five minutes, until, _finally_, Lucius and Rodolphus decided they were close enough to the front. Snape looked around impatiently. When the hell was the stupid parade going to start?

He tapped on the shoulder of a large, beefy muggle and asked, "Excuse me, sir -- what time is this thing supposed to begin?"

"I'm not a man!" exclaimed the muggle.

"...Oh. Pardon my mistake--"

Bellatrix snickered and muttered, "Are you _sure _about that, muggle?"

The muggle woman didn't seem to hear what Bellatrix had said, but she smiled when she laid eyes on her. "I like those funny clothes you're wearing. Aren't they a bit warm for this time of year, though?"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "_No_."

"My name's Cindy," said the muggle. "Where's your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend!" hissed Bellatrix.

"Would you like one?" asked Cindy cheekily.

Snape snorted loudly as Bellatrix cried, "I'm not a lesbian!"

"Could have fooled me," said Snape.

"Shut up, you unconscionable bastard!" yelled Bellatrix indignantly.

Snape was about to respond, but just then, loud music started up. He winced as he heard the opening chords of_ Dancing Queen _by Abba. The crowd erupted into screams and cheers. Lucius and Rodolphus were beside themselves with excitement. The parade commenced, and Bellatrix and Snape stood there, stony-faced and on the verge of murdering everyone within reach. The music was hurting Snape's ears, and he was beginning to wonder whether it would be a good idea to go say something bigoted to a large, scary lesbian and hope she killed him. _Suicide by dyke_, he thought to himself. _If I don't die within the next hour, I'll have to remember to add that one to my list of ways to kill myself._

"This is all _your _fault, Snape," said Bellatrix suddenly.

"What?"

"It's your fault. If you hadn't made such a big deal about not killing the muggles on that hunt, Lucius and Rodolphus probably never would have gotten raped, and this wouldn't have happened."

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" yelled Snape. "It wouldn't have made any difference, you barren old hag!"

"Don't you call me that! I could have children if I wanted to!"

Snape cocked an eyebrow. "No you couldn't, you detestable harpy."

"Oh, and as if you could? With _whom _would you have children? You can't even find yourself a _woman_!"

"What do _YOU _know about women, you fiendish little succubus!" roared Snape angrily.

"Oooh, have I touched a nerve, Snape? Is Mr. Big, Bad, and Greasy a wee bit lonely?"

"Go fuck yourself, Bellatrix. It isn't as if _you _have the most loving, harmonious marriage in the world."

"Rodolphus and I are just fine, thank you very much!"

"Ah, but you seem so _tense_," said Snape softly. "Be honest. When is the last time you and Rodolphus _consummated _your love?"

"I'm going to consummate your murder if you don't shut up."

"You know, _Bella_, I am a _very _generous man," said Snape sleekly. "If Rodolphus refuses to be... of _service _to you, I'm sure I could step in to..._ fill the gap_, so to speak."

Bellatrix's eyes widened. "What are you saying?"

Snape smirked. "I'm saying," he began in his silkiest voice, "that if you're feeling -- ah -- _openminded_ today, you and I could put on a bit of a _demonstration _and show these poufs how it's done."

"Are you... are you hitting on me?"

"Is there any reason I shouldn't?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Uh... I'm sort of... _married_. In case you hadn't noticed."

"Ah, but I can be very _discreet_, Bella," he purred, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Well... well, I mean... if you're honestly not going to say anything to Rodolphus, I guess we could just--"

"Oh my god, I can't believe you took me seriously!" exclaimed Snape, laughing maliciously.

"_What?!" _she snapped.

"HAH! Bellatrix, I wouldn't fuck you with the Dark Lord's dick!"

"You asshole!"

"Looks like you'll have to _self_-service, you foul, nefarious, street-walking whore!" he crowed rhapsodically.

"Fuck you, you shrimp-dicked bastard!" screeched Bellatrix indignantly.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Oh, please, Bellatrix. My equipment is enormous."

"Yeah _right_," she spat sarcastically.

"No, seriously, it's massive. Haven't you read all those fanfics?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow quizzically.

"When those female Snape fans write fanfics about me, they generally describe my dick as being huge. Sometimes they even indicate that it is _upsettingly _large."

"Gross!"

"That's right," he said silkily, "and apparently I'm the best shag on the planet."

"Well, _I _still think you're a greasy, impotent VIRGIN!"

Snape scowled. "Suck my cock, you sandy, rancid old cunt!"

She blinked at him and was silent for several long seconds, then said, "Dude. That was... pretty fucked up."

He winced. "Did I cross the line?" he asked nervously.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you definitely did."

"Oh. Oops. Was it 'cock' or 'cunt'?"

"'Cunt'," she replied. "Cock's okay, but you can't say cunt. That's just... too much."

"Sorry... My bad."

"Apology accepted. ...Bastard."

He was about to call her a raging bitch, but suddenly he realized that Rodolphus and Lucius weren't standing anywhere near them. "Uh, Bellatrix? Where are Rodolphus and Lucius?"

"Huh?" She looked around in confusion.

Snape and Bellatrix scanned the crowd frantically for a couple of minutes. Suddenly, their eyes were drawn toward one of the parade floats.

Snape gasped. "Oh my..."

"...God."

Lucius and Rodolphus were on one of the floats. Rodolphus was on his hands and knees, and Lucius was sitting on top of him, pretending to ride him like a cowboy, and smacking him periodically with his riding crop. They were singing boisterously along with the music:

_"It's Raining Men! Hallelujah! - It's Raining Men! Amen!  
I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get  
Absolutely soaking wet!  
It's Raining Men! Hallelujah!  
It's Raining Men! Every Specimen!  
Tall, blonde, dark and lean  
Rough and tough and strong and mean"_

"Oh no," whispered Snape.

"We've got to do something! We have to get them down!" cried Bellatrix.

"How?"

"Let's apparate up onto the float!"

"No!" he hissed. "Everyone will notice!"

"Well, we have to do _something_!"

He nodded curtly. "Follow me."

He grabbed her hand and tugged her along behind him as they pushed their way through the crowd. When they reached the front and were standing only a few feet away from the float, Snape turned to Bellatrix.

"Okay," he said. "Get ready. On three. We run, jump, and pull them off."

She nodded tensely.

"One... two... THREE!"

Snape and Bellatrix launched themselves toward the float. They jumped on top of it and grabbed hold of Lucius and Rodolphus.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" screamed Lucius and Rodolphus in unison.

"Get the fuck off this float, you stupid fairies!" shrieked Bellatrix.

Snape gripped Lucius firmly and bodily dragged him to the ground. Everyone in the crowd was laughing at them and clapping. Apparently, the spectacle was pretty amusing.

It didn't seem very funny to Snape. This whole situation sucked.

As he tugged Lucius away from the front of the crowd, he heard Bellatrix cry out, "Snape! Help me!" She was still standing atop the float, trying to drag Rodolphus away, but he was fighting her tooth and nail -- he was obviously stronger than she was.

"Not my problem, Bellatrix!" yelled Snape. "I'm afraid there's a one-fag quota! I've got my fag, you get yours!" Then he turned his back on her. As he dragged Lucius through the crowd, he could hear her screaming and cursing at him.

"Oh come on!" cried Lucius, resisting Snape's efforts to haul him away. "Lighten up, Sevy. It's raining men!"

"No, it bloody well _isn't _raining men, you ignorant, deluded pile of dog shit. And don't call me Sevy!"

Finally, Snape was exhausted and didn't think he could pull Lucius any further. He stood there in the midst of the crowd, panting and trying to catch his breath. Lucius was looking in all directions and repeatedly asking, "Where's Dolphy? What happened to Dolphy?"

Snape ignored him. After a few minutes, he saw Bellatrix and Rodolphus walking toward them. Rodolphus wasn't struggling anymore, and he had a strangely vacant look on his face. Snape raised an eyebrow at Bellatrix. "How'd you get him to behave?"

She shrugged. "Imperius Curse." She waved her wand and lifted the spell. Rodolphus blinked stupidly.

"What the fuck, Bella? I was having fun!" he cried, pouting.

"You've had enough _fun_," she snarled menacingly.

He closed his mouth and sulked in silence. The four of them stood there for a few minutes, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Snape was trying to think of a way to gently coerce Lucius into leaving without causing any additional emotional scarring. _Why does this shit always happen to me? _he wondered. _One silly little rape, and Lucius totally loses his mind. What a pussy. This is horseshit. _Suddenly, the song _I Will Survive _started blaring. Everyone began singing along. Snape was contemplating jumping under a float to see whether it crushed him, when a sudden movement caught his eye. He looked over at Lucius who was jumping up and down and grinning hugely at him.

"What's your fucking problem?" asked Snape irritably.

Lucius beamed at him and gushed, "Oh, I'm just so glad you're here with us!" Then he wrapped his arms around Snape and kissed him full on the lips.

Snape jumped backwards and collided with a large, masculine woman. "Watch it, lovebirds!" she exclaimed.

Bellatrix was doubled over with silent laughter, and Snape couldn't get Lucius to let go of him. After about 45 seconds of struggling, Snape finally managed to push Lucius roughly away. Snape stood there panting for a moment and then demanded, "What the FUCK do you think you're doing?"

Lucius looked hurt. "I just... I thought... I mean... Can you honestly tell me you've _never _had feelings for me?"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" cackled Bellatrix.

"No!" yelled Snape. "No, I have never had feelings for you! And what's more, you've never had feelings for me! You're CONFUSED, you stupid jackass!"

"I don't know about that!" shouted Bellatrix gleefully. "He looked pretty goddamn sure of what he was doing a moment ago!"

"Shut your yap, Bellatrix," said Snape scathingly. "If I were you, I'd be keeping a better eye on my queer little _Nancy _of a husband." Snape pointed at Rodolphus, who was standing a few feet away and had his hand at least a foot down some random guy's pants.

"Oi! Fuck!" screamed Bellatrix. She seemed to have temporarily given up on Rodolphus, however, and made no attempt to retrieve him.

Snape turned back to Lucius, who looked very upset. "Look, Lucius. Please listen to me. You're _not _gay."

"Stop repressing me!" cried Lucius.

"Do you even know what being gay _entails_?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you ever watched gay porn?" asked Snape.

"No."

"I know you're confused. And I know homosexuality seems glamorous right now, but it's not all parades and hand-holding and kissing and singing and dancing. If you're going to be gay, you have to take it all the way."

"What makes you think I wouldn't?" asked Lucius.

Snape sighed and said, "Lucius, would you like me to put my dick in your mouth?"

Lucius looked shocked. "...Excuse me?"

"Oh my god, Snape! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" shrieked Bellatrix. "I will _not _allow you to soil my sister's husband's mouth with your--"

Snape ignored Bellatrix and concentrated on Lucius. "I _said_, do you want me to stick my dick in your mouth?"

"No!" cried Lucius.

"Okay," said Snape softly, "would you like Rodolphus to put his dick in your mouth?"

"No!"

"Alright," continued Snape, "would you like any man on the face of this earth to put his dick in your mouth?"

"Well, Brad Pitt, naturally," replied Lucius.

"No, no, he doesn't count," said Snape, shaking his head.

"Why?"

"Because _everyone _wants Brad Pitt's dick in their mouth."

"True," admitted Lucius.

"The question is, do you want anyone _else's _dick in your mouth?"

"Absolutely not! It's disgusting!" exclaimed Lucius.

"Well, do you see all the other men in this crowd?" asked Snape, pointing at the muggles. "And do you see Rodolphus over there? You know what they all have in common? They _all_ like to have cocks in their mouths."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"That's gross. I don't think I'd care for that..."

"Then you're not gay!" cried Snape triumphantly.

"Are you sure Rodolphus is gay, then?" asked Lucius.

"Positive."

"He's not gay!" interjected Bellatrix.

"Shut up!" spat Snape. "Here. Let's try an experiment. I'm going to call Rodolphus over here. Bellatrix, go hide behind that big fat dyke so that he won't know you're here."

"What for?" she asked.

"_Trust _me."

She scowled, but after a moment, she wandered over to the woman Snape had indicated and hid behind her. Then Snape scanned the crowd. He quickly found Rodolphus, who was sandwiched between two sinewy, herculean men, who were dressed in sailor uniforms. Rodolphus was busy squeezing and admiring their muscles. Snape yelled at him and beckoned him over.

"What is it?" asked Rodolphus, clearly irritated at having been dragged away from his new _friends_.

"I was just wondering," said Snape nonchalantly, "whether you'd like Lucius to put his dick in your mouth."

"Absolutely!" cried Rodolphus jubilantly.

"I KNEW IT!" shouted Snape.

"You filthy faggot!" screamed Bellatrix, jumping out from behind the burly lesbian.

Rodolphus blanched. "Uh-oh..."

"I can't believe you'd do this to me after all these years of marriage, you--"

Bellatrix's rant was cut off by the sound of several muggles simultaneously screaming, "LOOK OUT!"

Snape, Lucius, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus turned to see what everyone was looking at. The screaming grew louder, and suddenly, all four of them were drenched. Someone had begun spraying the crowd with a hose.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" yelped Bellatrix, clutching at her sodden robes.

"My hair!" wailed Lucius.

Snape rolled his eyes. _Oh dear_, he thought sarcastically. _**Luce's** hair is wet. What a grievous tragedy._

"What's going on??" asked Rodolphus in a panicky voice.

"Protesters!" answered someone in the crowd.

Snape gasped as a bucket-full of purple paint splashed across his robes. "Oh, goddammit! I just had these dry cleaned! And I FUCKING HATE purple!"

Bellatrix had been in the line of fire, too, and she stood there, utterly shocked, and gaping down at her soiled robes. The protesters were jeering at the crowd and spouting Bible verses every five seconds.

"'**Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination**'!" quoted one protester.

Lucius was still muttering and complaining about his hair. Truth be told, Snape was at a complete loss for what to do. He was so surprised, he'd forgotten to be furious. He'd also forgotten he was a wizard. He'd forgotten... everything. He just stood there, gawking dazedly at the mess on his robes.

"'**And the land is defiled: therefore I do visit the iniquity thereof upon it, and the land itself vomiteth out her inhabitants'**!" shouted another protester.

Snape and Bellatrix gazed at each other with baffled looks on their faces. They were speechless. The screams of the crowd grew louder. More paint was thrown, and the wizards continued to stand there, seemingly paralyzed.

"'**Neither shalt thou lie with any beast to defile thyself therewith: neither shall any woman stand before a beast to lie down thereto: it is confusion'**!" roared another protester.

The crowd went quiet for a moment, everyone looking at each other in confusion. Bellatrix furrowed her brow and asked Snape, "What does bestiality have to do with gay sex?"

Snape shook his head uncomprehendingly.

One of the protesters screamed at the man who'd spoken previously: "Dude! Marcus! That's, like, the wrong verse! That ones's about animals! Gay people don't screw animals!"

"Well... some of them might," offered a young woman, who had stopped thumping her Bible for a moment so that she could take part in the conversation.

"Yeah!" yelled Marcus. "If a man will sleep with another man, that's not a far step from fucking a goat!"

The crowd was silent: protesters and homosexuals alike. Everyone frowned and looked at one another skeptically.

"Do you guys fuck goats?" asked a protester uncertainly.

"NO!" screamed the crowd, as one.

"See there, Marcus? That's what I just said!"

"I'll fuck your MOM!" screamed some random jackass.

"That's what she said!" cried another easily-amused asshole. Snape sneered at no one in particular and rolled his eyes.

Silence. For about 30 seconds. Then Marcus screamed, "See?! Look how immoral and evil they are! They're threatening to rape your mother! Down with the homos!"

"Yeah!" shouted the protesters. And the Bible verses began again.

Snape looked at Rodolphus, who looked incensed. He was clenching and unclenching his fists, and he seemed to be grinding his teeth. Lucius had pulled his fancy brush out of nowhere (_I don't even want to know where he's been keeping that thing_, thought Snape) and begun wildly combing his hair. He was clearly distressed. Bellatrix stood stock still, staring up at the protesters with fury in her eyes.

"'**If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them'**!" screamed a protester.

For some reason, this particular verse pushed Rodolphus over the edge."They're threatening my people!" he bellowed.

Snape jerked his head up to look at him. "Rodolphus, what are you--?"

"Let's kill them! Let's kill them all!" shouted Rodolphus viciously.

"Really?" asked Bellatrix hopefully. "We can kill the muggles?"

"Yes! Death to the homophobes!" roared Rodolphus.

"Yay!" squealed Bellatrix in delight, her sense of betrayal at Rodolphus's recently-revealed homosexuality all but forgotten.

Snape glared at them disdainfully. _So fucking impulsive_, he thought. Lucius was still too busy fussing with his hair to react to anything that was going on around him.

"Come on, Sev, let's kill them!" said Rodolphus.

"No," hissed Snape. "Absolutely not. I've had enough. Lucius and I are going home."

"Aw, but you'll miss out on all the fun!" protested Bellatrix.

"This afternoon has been a disaster," replied Snape. "I'm leaving. Come on Lucius."

Lucius was still compulsively brushing his hair.

Snape turned to Bellatrix and Rodolphus. "Do what you have to do, but _please _clean up after yourselves. Kill them all or Obliviate the ones that see what happens. Just _don't _allow the Ministry to find out. We don't want them to become involved."

"Right-o, Captain!" answered Rodolphus, grinning.

Snape sighed in exasperation, grabbed Lucius, and turned on the spot.

**.6.**

When Snape and Lucius apparated in front of the Manor, Lucius _still _hadn't stopped brushing his hair.

"I think you can quit that now, Lucius."

Lucius looked around and realized where he was. "Oh. Okay. Yeah." He put the brush away.

"You missed your therapy appointment, you know," said Snape.

"Will the guy refund my money?" asked Lucius apprehensively.

"No."

"Shit."

Snape smirked. "What's wrong? Having financial issues?"

"Of course not!" snapped Lucius. "I have so much money, I don't even know what to do with it. I--"

"Shut up, Lucius."

Lucius sighed and nodded. "You know, you were right about the gay thing all along."

"I know. So you'll stop all this now? And take down all those stupid posters in your room?"

"Yes," said Lucius. "But I think I may still cross-dress on the weekends. Just for laughs."

"Whatever," said Snape coldly. "But I don't think you should tell Narcissa about it. She's about to go crazy."

"Right," agreed Lucius.

"Good," said Snape. "I'll be off now, I think."

"You wouldn't like tea?"

"No. I have to go clean my fucking robes. Look at me."

Lucius scrunched up his face in distaste as he looked at Snape's purple-splattered robes. "Yeah, you'd better go. I'm not sure Cissy would let you in the house, anyway. I'll call you tomorrow."

Snape nodded. "Fine." A moment later, he disapparated.

**.6.**

He entered the Hogwarts gates and made his way quickly toward the castle. He hoped to god none of the students saw him. He was soaking wet and covered in paint. It would be unspeakably embarrassing. When he reached the castle, he rushed inside and made his way toward the dungeons. He fled through the corridors, desperate to reach his quarters. After a few minutes, he saw that he was nearing the dungeons, and he started to relax a bit. His luck had been excellent. He hadn't seen a soul. He unclenched his jaw and made his way a bit more slowly. And then he saw them.

Fred and George Weasley.

He froze. _Shit! _he thought. _Why did it have to be Gryffindors? And why did it have to be **those **two?!_

For a moment, they just stared at him, eyes wide in surprise. Then they grinned and looked at each other. Looking back at him, Fred (_or is it George? Who can honestly tell the difference?) _said, "Wow, professor. We didn't know you so adamantly supported gay rights."

"Yeah, purple looks good on you," added George (_or Fred?)_, laughing.

Snape bristled. "50 points from Gryffindor!"

The twins frowned. "That's not fair!" cried Fred.

"Yeah, how come?" asked George.

Snape clenched his fists and searched for an answer. He didn't really have a good reason. "20 points for commenting on my purported political stance toward homosexuality, which is none of your concern; 20 points for making a condescending remark about the compromised state of my robes; and 10 points for grinning idiotically in my presence! And now, a _further _10 points for questioning me and whining about my decision being '_unfair'_, as you so eloquently put it."

Without another word, he swept away down the corridor, muttering angrily to himself. Try as he might, he couldn't get his cloak to billow properly. The paint was hardening, and his robes had become too stiff.

As he walked, he wondered for the 50th time that day why he hadn't killed himself yet. _My friends are stupid, my students are assholes, and the Dark Lord is still speaking in riddles, which is a problem I suppose I'll have to contend with sometime in the very near future._ _This is total bullshit._

**.6.**

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Thanks for reading. Please review!


	7. INTERMISSION

**101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life**

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_(Ah, sorry guys... this isn't actually a chapter.)_

**OKAY, READERS, LISTEN UP!** (or... _look _up... or _read _up... or whatever it is you do when you pay close attention to something online... yeah...)

I've been thinking. (Wow, that's a first, huh?) Since this fic gets a such a modest number of reviews, I tend to value my reviewers very highly. To be honest with you, I'm having so much fun, I feel like I could go on doing this fic indefinitely (although soon I'm going to have to start paying a bit more attention to real life; I have to move again at some point in the next week or so). And let's face it, this story has several recurring themes but no definite plot. In my opinion, that's a good thing because it means I can incorporate a million ridiculous ideas into the story without worrying about messing anything up. It has also occurred to me that even _my _twisted mind will be hard-pressed to think up 101 chapters worth of Snape-torturing material. So, I would be very glad to have my cherished reviewers help me come up with silly scenarios to write about. I think the next chapter I'll be writing will be a Voldemort-meets-Umbridge thing, which is an idea I got from xXblacksakuraXx. After that, on Inu-midoriko's recommendation, I'm going to try to think of a way to get Snape and Lucius to have sex. (For those of you who dislike slash, _**don't** _worry. I _promise _it won't be real slash. And it won't be explicit or icky or anything like that. It'll be goofy and stupid, just like everything else I write. And it will just be the _one _time.)

Since I've already got two ideas for future chapters based on reviews I've received, I figure I should just go ahead and say that I'm open to _all _ideas. If any of you have anything you'd like to see me do to these poor characters, just let me know. It's okay if your ideas are outlandish and crazy -- I definitely don't mind. It can be something completely idiotic, like "send Voldemort to the grocery store to buy condoms", and I'll try to find a way to fit it in. Seriously, I don't care. Whatever the idea may be, I'll work with it. I don't know how _quickly _I'll be able to incorporate each idea, but I'll try to do them in the order in which I receive them. I make no promises about _how _I use your ideas, though, because I have a warped sense of humor; thus, if you say something that sends my mind off in a random, bizarre direction, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it. But when I use your idea, I will give you credit at the end of the chapter (unless you tell me not to, for some reason). If I have a streak of creativity and come up with my own ideas for new chapters, they may get precedence. But it all depends.

So if you've got ideas, send 'em my way. If no more ideas from reviewers are forthcoming, I'll just use the couple I've already decided on and then go back to doing what I've been doing.

Anyway, to everyone who's reviewed, thanks so much! You rock.

- elemesnedene

* * *

**Disclaimer:** No one would pay me to write this trash. (So don't sue me!) 

**_Intermission_**

(_Snape, Lucius, Bellatrix, and Draco are sitting around a wooden table in a small, nondescript room; they're drinking coffee and flipping through old copies of the first six chapters of "101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life"; everyone looks really bored)_

**BELLATRIX**: What's taking her so long?

**SNAPE**: She's still writing.

**DRACO**: Um, what exactly are we waiting for?

**LUCIUS:** (_sneering)_ We're waiting for the stupid muggle Author to finish writing chapter 7 so we can go act it out.

**DRACO**: Oh, am I in this chapter?

**LUCIUS**: No.

**DRACO**: Uhhh, then why the hell am I here?

**LUCIUS**: I don't know, you just are.

**DRACO**: Well, I really don't see any point in being here if I don't have a part. Why the hell--

**BELLATRIX**: Just shut up, Draco. Don't ask questions. The stupid, neurotic Author's probably having a psychotic break, or something.

**LUCIUS**: I don't think I'm going to participate in the next chapter.

**SNAPE**: And why not?

**LUCIUS**: Why not? _Why not_?? Have you forgotten chapter 6?! It was awful!

**BELLATRIX**: What was wrong with chapter 6?

**LUCIUS**: Are you SHITTING me? Did you READ that fuckin' thing?

**BELLATRIX**: Uhh, yeah. I was _in _it.

**LUCIUS**: It was embarrassing!

**SNAPE**: No it wasn't.

**LUCIUS**: No, not for you! But did you SEE some of the crap she had me doing in that chapter?? She had me singing _Barbie Girl_!! By motherfucking Aqua!

**BELLATRIX**: For god's sake, stop bitching. Just deal with it.

**LUCIUS**: You have no right to talk! She's never made you do anything like that! It was humiliating!

**SNAPE**: It's not that big a deal.

**BELLATRIX**: Yeah, well, she makes you look better than the rest of us.

**SNAPE**: Not really. I'm out of character half the time. She actually had me saying the words 'I need to take a piss' in chapter 5.

**BELLATRIX**: Yeah, but you spend a lot more of your time in character than we do. She makes us look like idiots.

**SNAPE**: But you _are _idiots.

**BELLATRIX**: Fuck you, you greasy, ugly bastard.

**SNAPE**: Ah, but I'm not ugly. In fact, I'm dead sexy.

**BELLATRIX:** (_snorts)_ Oh yeah? How do you figure?

**SNAPE**: Don't you _get _it? This story is being written by a _woman_.

**LUCIUS**: So?

**SNAPE**: _So_, 90 percent of female Snape fans give me the benefit of the doubt and assume I'm sexy.

**BELLATRIX**: That's ridiculous. You are NOT hot.

**SNAPE**: Well, it's not necessarily that female fans think I'm _hot_. They think I'm _sexy_. There's a difference.

**LUCIUS**: You're just a snarky asshole. What's sexy about you? _I'm _sexy.

**SNAPE**: Yes, but that's what everyone likes about me: my snarkiness.

**DRACO**: Is that a word?

**LUCIUS**: I don't think so.

**BELLATRIX**: Well, if this Author thinks you're anything other than a greasy git, she's stupid.

**SNAPE**: You should be nicer. She likes you.

**BELLATRIX**: What the hell do I care?

**SNAPE**: She thinks you're pretty. She even described you as _beautiful_. When's the last time anyone paid you a compliment like that?

**BELLATRIX**: She said I was beautiful?

**LUCIUS**: (_looks anxious)_ Does she think I'm attractive?

**SNAPE**: Yes. She likes your hair.

**LUCIUS**: (_relaxes)_ Good. Everyone likes my hair.

**BELLATRIX:** (_flips through chapter 6)_ Where does she say I'm pretty? I don't see it.

**SNAPE**: It wasn't in that one. It was in chapter 4. What, didn't you read it?

**BELLATRIX**: I... skimmed it.

**DRACO**: No one who managed to read all of chapter 4 is in their right mind.

**LUCIUS**: Agreed.

**SNAPE**: Why do you say that?

**DRACO**: Because it was long and angst-ridden.

**LUCIUS**: And because I got buttfucked against my will!

**SNAPE**: You've got to understand, though -- the Author has a penchant for the dramatic. It just slipped through.

**LUCIUS**: A hidden inclination toward drama? Kind of like her carefully-repressed appreciation of slash?

**SNAPE**: Sort of. _Good _slash, though. Not nasty slash.

**BELLATRIX**: She's not going to turn this into a slash fic, is she? There aren't any other girls, and I have a feeling I'd get written out. Or paired with Umbridge... (_shudders)_

**SNAPE**: No, it's definitely not going to turn into slash.

**LUCIUS**: Chapter 4 felt kind of 'slashy' to me.

**DRACO**: I don't think anal rape counts, dad.

**SNAPE**: No, it doesn't. That was just an isolated incident. And I don't think the drama thing will happen again either. It was an accident.

**BELLATRIX**: I thought you said that Freud said there _are _no accidents.

**SNAPE**: ...Whatever.

**LUCIUS**: I still refuse to do any more chapters.

**SNAPE**: Stop complaining. Do you realize how easy you've got it in this fic?

**LUCIUS**: EASY?!? I got butt-raped!

**SNAPE**: At least you didn't have an angsty fit and start burning down barns and casting the Dark Mark for no particular reason.

**LUCIUS**: A HILLBILLY _VIOLATED_ ME!!!

**SNAPE**: Yeah, but aside from that, it hasn't been so bad. Have you read some of the stuff that's out there? People write fics about you and Draco licking each others' asses.

**DRACO**: GROSS!

**LUCIUS**: WHAT?!

**BELLATRIX**: It's true. By the way... am I in the next chapter?

**SNAPE**: I don't think she's decided yet.

**BELLATRIX**: Hey, you know, I just realized... Rodolphus has been in this fic almost as much as we have.

**DRACO**: He has? Then why isn't he here with us right now?

**SNAPE**: Because no one actually gives a flying fuck about Rodolphus.

**LUCIUS**: True. Oh, and listen to this bullshit: I heard through the grapevine that she's thinking about forcing Snape and me into a sexual encounter.

**DRACO**: Gross!

**LUCIUS**: Yeah, I know. I really hope she edits that idea out.

**SNAPE**: She won't. She never subtracts. Just adds.

**BELLATRIX**: Yeah, that's why the chapters are all so long and random.

**LUCIUS**: Some of these jokes are really immature. How old is this woman?

**SNAPE**: Hard to say.

**DRACO**: Why is she writing this weird little 'intermission' thing?

**BELLATRIX: **(_shrugs)_ Probably having writer's block in the middle of the chapter and looking for something to do. Hopefully, no one will even go to the trouble to read this part.

**DRACO**: Why 'hopefully'?

**BELLATRIX**: Because it's not funny. At all.

**SNAPE**: Actually, I'm pretty sure she just wrote this because she wanted an excuse to put an author's note at the top.

(_all look up as Harry Potter walks into the room and sits down in an empty chair)_

**BELLATRIX**: What the fuck are _you _doing here? This fic isn't about you!

**HARRY**: It's not technically about _you _either.

**SNAPE**: Potter, why are you here?

**HARRY**: I came to ask the Author why I haven't been in the fic yet.

**DRACO**: Why do you think she'd include you anyway? It's not as if you're interesting.

**HARRY**: Shut up, Malfoy. She has a responsibility to put me in the fic. It's based on _my _books!

**SNAPE**: Ah, I see, Potter. You find it utterly unbearable that anyone should find _us _more interesting than yourself, do you?

**HARRY**: No, that's not what I'm--

**SNAPE**: Yes, god forbid the _Chosen One _should feel 'left out'.

**DRACO**: Hah! Quick, someone write a Weasley-Potter sex scene so that Potter doesn't feel left out!

**SNAPE**: Actually, Draco, unless I am much mistaken, _you _are the one most slash writers pair with Potter.

**DRACO & HARRY**: GROSS!

**SNAPE**: Quite.

**HARRY**: I just don't think it's fair that--

**AUTHOR**: Uh, Harry? What the hell are you doing here?

(_everyone looks up, surprised that they failed to notice the Author's entrance)_

**HARRY:** (_stands)_ I came to complain. I don't understand why you haven't put me in your story yet.

**AUTHOR: **(_raises an eyebrow)_ You actually _want _to be in this story?

**HARRY:** (_looks confused)_ Well, yeah...

**AUTHOR:** (_shakes head)_ Fine. But it's your funeral. You'll definitely regret it.

**HARRY:** (_seems worried)_ What are you--?

**AUTHOR**: I'll work you in whenever I get the chance. It probably won't be anytime soon. And I'll probably make something horrible happen to you.

**DRACO**: GOOD!

**HARRY**: Uh... okay. (_sits back down with a slightly concerned expression on his face)_

**BELLATRIX:** (_turns to Author)_ Where's the new chapter?

**AUTHOR**: I haven't started it yet.

**BELLATRIX**: What?!

**AUTHOR**: I haven't had time.

**BELLATRIX**: Then why the hell have we been sitting here, waiting for you?

**AUTHOR**: I just came to warn you guys that you may be doing some really weird shit in the next few chapters.

**SNAPE**: As if we haven't been doing 'really weird shit' all along?

**AUTHOR**: It may be about to get worse. It depends on the reviewers.

**LUCIUS**: NO! That's it! I'm through! I quit!

**AUTHOR**: You can't.

**LUCIUS**: Yes I can!

**AUTHOR**: If you don't do the next chapter _exactly _the way I want you to, I'm going to write a fic in which you and Dobby perform oral sex on Dumbledore and Voldemort.

**BELLATRIX**: UGH! That is FUCKED UP, Daisy!

**SNAPE**: Stop quoting muggle films, Bellatrix.

**BELLATRIX**: I wish I could! She (_points at Author)_ made me say it! It's not my fault if she's seen _Girl, Interrupted _too many times!

**DRACO**: Sucks for you.

**BELLATRIX**: And why am _I _the one who always makes these stupid pop culture references?

**AUTHOR**: I don't know. It just came out that way.

**SNAPE**: Do you pay _any _attention to what you write?

**AUTHOR:** (_thinks for a moment, then shakes her head)_ No. Absolutely none.

**SNAPE:** (_sneering)_ That's what I thought.

**DRACO**: So when's chapter 7 going to be ready?

**AUTHOR**: Hell, I dunno. A few days? I have to write it and edit it and everything.

**SNAPE**: Yet despite how thoroughly you edit your work, it will still be full of typos and misspellings, won't it?

**AUTHOR**: Most likly.

**BELLATRIX**: Yup, there we go. Right there. You said 'likly'.

**AUTHOR**: I meant 'likely'.

**BELLATRIX**: Yeah, well, unfortunately, you can't type.

**AUTHOR**: Whatever. It doesn't matter. Point is, be prepared for some odd stuff in upcoming chapters.

**LUCIUS**: This is horseshit.

**AUTHOR**: Suck it up and DEAL, or you'll be blowing Dobby within the next 48 hours.

**LUCIUS**: FINE! (_stalks off, muttering angrily)_ Sick, twisted fuck...

**AUTHOR: **(_watches Lucius go, then turns back to the other characters and shrugs)_ Any questions for me before I go?

**HARRY**: Yeah, what the hell are we supposed to do while we wait for you to write the next chapter?

**AUTHOR**: What? (_looks exasperated)_ I don't fucking know. Go have a huge gay orgy in Gryffindor tower, or something. Who cares? Use your imagination.

(_Harry, Bellatrix, Draco, and Snape look at each other, trying to decide whether an orgy in Gryffindor tower is a good idea; the Author rolls her eyes as she notices that they're actually considering it; shaking her head, she walks out of the room)_

**Fin**

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	8. The Horse Of A Different Color

**101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life**

**

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**Oh my god, I've been inundated with fabulous ideas! You guys are AMAZING!!! And totally crazy. Which is awesome. Okay, obviously, it's going to take me awhile to work all this stuff in, so if you don't see anything of yours in the next two chapters, don't worry! I'm just a bit bogged down at the moment. Many, many thanks to _all _of you. Credit will be given where it's due (and let me tell you, a LOT of credit is due) at the end of the chapter. Originally, I intended to take your ideas one at a time and try to use them in the order in which I received them, but in the end, I just sort of let my creative instinct take over, which resulted in me randomly picking and choosing the things that fit most easily. The main theme for this chapter comes from Angel-o-Darkness. Chapter 8 will be based on xXblacksakuraXx's Star Wars idea. Initially, I was planning to write these two chapters side by side and put them up at the same time, but it occurs to me that I'm going to have to put a bit more thought into a Star Wars RPG. Chapter 9 will be the Snape-Lucius sex chapter. (I'm having trouble deciding how to initiate that, but I'll figure it out.) 

Let me just go ahead and warn you that this chapter is _completely _insane. And long. When I mixed your ideas with my own, things got a little out of hand. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing. By the way, why is everyone so hell-bent on torturing Lucius? ...I guess because it's inexpressibly fun! Between chapter 4, chapter 6, and this chapter, Lucius has had a pretty hard time. I'm beginning to think he has as many reasons to hate his life as Snape. Poor thing...

**NOTE**: If you know anything about London, there's no reason for you to read this. But if you're a silly American like myself (who's never been to London), here's a little background info. 1) I'm sure you all know the name "Big Ben", which is the main bell within the Clock Tower at the Houses of Parliament building in Westminster. Technically, the Clock Tower _itself _is not Big Ben. When I refer to it, I'll just call it "The Clock Tower" or "The Tower of Big Ben", or something. 2) Piccadilly Circus is basically a massive traffic intersection and tourist attraction. It is famous for its video displays and neon signs and stuff. I don't really know how to describe it. 3) 'The Old Vic' is a theater, as is 'The Dominion'.

**Disclaimer**: None of these characters are mine. And thank god, too. If I owned _Harry Potter_, it would be so vulgar, disturbing, and outlandish that angry mothers would feel obligated to form an organization called Mothers Against Harry Potter (MAHP). Also, if I wrote them, no one would have bought the books. (Oh, and the Austin Powers reference isn't mine either.)

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**.7.**

**Chapter 7: The Horse Of A Different Color**

It was 9:00 AM on Saturday, September 27th, and Severus Snape was sitting in his office, marking papers. He was in an unpleasant mood because, frankly, everything just sucked. He was still being hounded by Umbridge, and the rest of the staff offered him no support because they thought the situation was highly amusing. So he was taking out his frustration on the students. Thus far, no one in his first year Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw class had received better than a 'poor' on their essays. _Then again_, he thought angrily,_ that's no worse than they deserve. Their profound incompetence is depressing._

He looked up when his phone began blaring _Hit Me Baby One More Time _by Britney Spears. _Oh no_, he thought. _That's Bellatrix. I'm really not in the mood to talk to her. What a stupid ringtone. If I ever actually **hit** Bellatrix, I guarantee it will be more than **one time**_. He stared at the phone for several seconds, debating whether to answer. In the end, he decided he'd rather deal with her now than later.

"Hello?"

"Snape! I have great news!" cried Bellatrix.

"What is it?" asked Snape warily.

"It's the Dark Lord! He's stopped riddling!"

"...Really?" _No way, this is too good to be true! _he thought.

"Yes!"

"Forever? He's through riddling forever?"

"Well... not exactly."

"Dammit," muttered Snape. "I _knew _it was too good to be true."

"Well," said Bellatrix, "you remember how the Dark Lord was going to go on Celebrity Poker?"

"Yes."

"Well, Jenkins made a bet with him."

"What kind of bet?" asked Snape.

"He bet the Dark Lord he couldn't win, but if he _did_ win, Jenkins said he'd go streaking through Diagon Alley. And if the Dark Lord lost, he'd have to stop riddling for a full week."

"A bet with the Dark Lord? That's seems... a rather brazen thing to do."

"The Dark Lord thought so, too," said Bellatrix. "He killed Jenkins straight off. But he went on Celebrity Poker, and he lost. For some reason, he kept up his end of the bet anyway! As a 'tribute to the dead'."

"Who won the poker game?" asked Snape curiously.

"Robin Williams. He's been snorting coke again, and you know how he gets when he's hyped up. He was just unbeatable."

"How absurd," said Snape disdainfully.

"Yes, but the _point _is, we've got a _whole week _free of riddling!"

"Well... I guess that's _something _to be grateful for," said Snape, somewhat dispiritedly.

"Anyway, the Dark Lord wants everyone at Malfoy Manor for tea and muffins."

"Muffins?"

"Well, yes... it's... a 'muffin party'."

"Goddammit," muttered Snape. "I fucking hate muffins."

"Why?"

"Because I don't like the word," explained Snape. "I feel stupid when I say 'muffin'. It makes me think of fluffy things. Like... kittens... and pillows."

"...You're really neurotic. Do you know that?"

"Yes."

"Okay, whatever... Well, be at the Manor at 10:00."

"But that's in an hour!" whined Snape. "And I'm busy!"

"Just get off your ass and come, jerkoff," said Bellatrix exasperatedly. Without another word, she hung up the phone.

_Dammit! _thought Snape. _Stupid fucking muffins!_

**.7.**

Despite his hatred of muffins, Snape 'got off his ass' and got ready. He arrived at Malfoy Manor at 10:00, and Buttmunch promptly answered the door. _I'm shocked this fucking elf is still alive_, thought Snape. _Avery must not have been here in awhile_.

"May Buttmunch be taking sir's cloak?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Yeah, _whatever_," he said scathingly. He threw the cloak at the elf with unnecessary force. "Go ahead and 'be taking' it, _Buttmunch_."

The elf didn't seem affronted by Snape's behavior, and he cheerfully bowed the wizard into the parlor. The first thing Snape noticed as he entered the Manor was an eerie quiet... Snape narrowed his eyes and looked around. He had the strangest feeling someone was watching him. It was almost as if somebody was...

"OH HOLY FUCK! WHAT IN **SHIT'S **NAME?!?!" yelled Snape as he experienced a piercing pain in his forehead. He staggered backward, clutching at his head. "JESUS CHRIST!"

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!" came Voldemort's cold, cruel laugh.

The evil cackle distracted Snape from the agony in his head. He looked up at Voldemort, who was laughing maniacally and holding... _a staple gun??_

"DID YOU JUST FUCKING **STAPLE **ME?!" screamed Snape.

At that moment, Lucius came running into the parlor. He stopped and stood stock-still when he saw Snape. Snape gaped at him. Lucius had a bumper sticker stapled to his forehead, which read, '_I Like Lipstick On My Dipstick_'.

"Oh my lord, Lucius!" cried Snape. "Have you looked in a mirror lately?!"

Lucius scowled. "Have _you _looked in a mirror?"

"Oh no..." whispered Snape, realizing that he probably had an equally stupid sign stapled to his own forehead. "What does it say?"

Lucius smirked. "It says, '_I'm 51 percent Pussycat and 49 percent Bitch... SO DON'T PUSH IT'_."

"Oh sweet Christ. I'm going to kill myself," said Snape despairingly.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" cackled Voldemort evilly.

Snape narrowed his eyes contemptuously at Voldemort. He wanted to hex the holy living shit out of him, or -- at the very least -- let loose a formidable (and _extremely _vulgar) string of curse words. But he took a few deep breaths, wrestled down his anger, and managed to hold his tongue.

"Well, then," said Voldemort casually. "Shall we go to the kitchen?"

"Kitchen?" asked Snape.

"Of course! Didn't Bellatrix tell you we'll be making muffins this morning?"

"Oh, right," mumbled Snape.

He followed Voldemort and Lucius into the kitchen, which was, thankfully, quite large. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Alecto, Amycus, Dolohov, Travers, Crabbe, Goyle, and Wormtail were all standing around, mixing muffin batter. Everyone looked furious. They _all _had bumper stickers stapled to their heads. Snape gawked at them.

"What are _you _looking at, Snape?" hissed Bellatrix, whose sticker read, '_Safe Sex Is In The Palm Of Your Hand'._

Snape snorted at her. "I apologize for staring, Bellatrix, but I was distracted by the blatant masturbation endorsement which is displayed so prominently on your forehead."

"Fuck you, asshole," she snarled. "Or perhaps I should say, 'fuck you, _pussycat'_."

Snape narrowed his eyes at her and wondered how much trouble he'd get in if he just decided to _Avada Kedavra _her right in her insolent fucking face. He was seriously considering it. Seriously, _seriously _considering it. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to come to an official decision, as he was rather distracted by a sudden pain in his ass (literally).

"WHAT THE FUCK!?!" he bellowed.

The other Death Eaters roared with laughter. Snape turned around to look at the Dark Lord, who was standing behind him, holding his staple gun and feigning innocence. _Great_, thought Snape, _now I have a sticker on my **ass**, too! _

"DAMMIT! Well, what does it say?!" demanded Snape angrily.

Voldemort chuckled. It says, "_'If I Wanted To Hear From An Asshole, I'd Fart'_."

"Oh, goddammit!"

Everyone laughed uproariously.

"This is bullshit!" yelled Snape furiously.

Voldemort frowned. "For god's sake, calm down. You're so uptight."

"I'VE HAD BUMPER STICKERS STAPLED TO ME!" bellowed Snape.

"Yeah, well, so has everyone else," pointed out Goyle, whose bumper sticker read, '_Suck My Drunk, I'm Dick'_.

"You bitch too much," said Alecto. Snape glared at her and glanced at the sticker on her head. It said, '_Support Cannibalism... EAT ME!_'.

"Mine's way worse," said Amycus, pointing at his head. Snape looked at it and read it to himself: '_Why'd the pervert cross the road? BECAUSE THAT'S WHERE THE CHICKEN WENT!_'. After reading it, Snape had to agree. It was definitely 'way worse'.

"_All _of you complain too much," said Travers critically. Snape looked at his sticker, which said, '_I Don't Know Whether to Commit Suicide or Go Bowling'_.

"Commit suicide," advised Snape.

"...Excuse me?" asked Travers.

"Nevermind..."

"Alright, enough lazing about!" said Voldemort, clapping his hands. "Get back to work! Chop, chop!"

Snape sighed and walked over to Rodolphus, whose sticker said, '_I Got Kicked Out of Cub Scouts for Eating a Brownie_'.

"Well," said Snape morosely, "what do you need me to do?"

"Here," muttered Rodolphus, pushing a carton of eggs toward him, "beat these."

Snape set to work beating the eggs and tried to stop thinking about how much he wanted to kill himself. It was hard. The Death Eaters worked in silence until the Dark Lord left the room. Everyone stopped working for a moment as they watched him go.

After a few seconds had passed, Rabastan (whose bumper sticker read '_You're Living Proof That Cowboys Humped Buffalo'_) spoke up: "Is anyone else wondering why they haven't killed themselves?"

"YES!" yelled everyone.

"If you were going to kill yourself," began Dolohov (whose sticker said '_Wanna Come Into Money? Put a Dime in Your Condom'_), "how would you do it?"

"I'd feed myself to a giant," answered Crabbe, who was sporting a bumper sticker that read '_My Child Was Inmate Of The Month At The County Jail'_.

"I'd kill 50 muggles and then drown myself in their blood," replied Goyle, whose sticker said (appropriately enough), _'If The Screams From My Trunk Bother You, Turn Up Your Radio'_.

Everyone looked at him warily, but no one commented. Finally, Wormtail (whose sticker read '_I Do Whatever The Voices In My Pants Tell Me To_') broke the silence: "I think I'd just jump off a cliff."

"Wow, _that's _original," said Bellatrix sardonically.

Ignoring Bellatrix and Wormtail, Alecto said, "Hell, I'd make it easy. I'd tell my mom I'd married a Mudblood. She'd kill me in two seconds."

"I'd let Dolores Umbridge sit on me," said Snape.

Rodolphus snorted. "Heh. Death by fatty."

"I'd tell the Dark Lord to suck my big, sweaty cock," proclaimed Amycus loudly.

Travers and Goyle snickered.

"Is there a spell for that?" asked Rabastan.

"For what?" asked Wormtail.

"For making someone suck your dick."

"Uh, yeah," said Dolohov scathingly, "it's called the Imperius Curse."

"Exactly," agreed Crabbe. "You put it on a bitch and then tell her to get the fuck on her knees."

All the men laughed.

"Fuck you and your sexist bullshit," said Alecto angrily.

"Oh relax. We're just joking around," said Rodolphus.

"I wasn't," muttered Crabbe under his breath.

"But no, seriously," continued Rodolphus, "shouldn't there be a _specific _spell that would make someone suck your dick?"

"You could invent one," suggested Travers.

Bellatrix snorted loudly. "Invent a dick sucking spell, huh? Okay, how about... _**Eat**us **Cock**us_?" Everyone roared with laughter.

"Hey, I got one," said Rodolphus. "_**Swallow**us **Phallus**_." More laughter.

"_**Suck**us **Dick**us_," offered Dolohov. Laughter.

"What about _Penis In Mouthus_?" said Wormtail.

Silence.

"You're a fucking idiot, Wormtail," spat Goyle.

Wormtail blushed and went back to quietly churning muffin batter.

The Death Eaters chatted amicably for about 15 more minutes, but they lapsed into silence the moment Voldemort reentered the room. For some reason, he decided to come work right next to Snape. Rodolphus, who didn't really want to have to stand anywhere near the Dark Lord, scurried off to help Bellatrix. Snape sighed.

"So, Severus," began Voldemort, "have you any more news to report from Hogwarts?"

"Yes," replied Snape. "I hate Umbridge. I hate her with a fiery, unquenchable, violent passion."

"She's a pureblood," commented Voldemort unconcernedly.

"True. But she's also a ghastly, insufferable ogress."

"If she's a pureblood, I'm sure she isn't _that _bad," said Voldemort crossly.

"She's _fat_," hissed Snape.

Voldemort pulled a face. "Oh. Ew. Oh, yeah, that's nasty. Ugh. Sick."

"You should meet her, my Lord," said Snape suggestively. He was hoping he could encourage a meeting between the Dark Lord and Umbridge. Her personality was so obnoxious and foul, he was almost positive Voldemort would kill her.

Voldemort raised what _would _have been an eyebrow if he'd had any fucking hair. "Why? I don't talk to fat people. You know that."

"I remember," said Snape. "I bought you that 'No Fat Chicks' shirt 17 years ago."

"I love that shirt. I totally still have that. One of the best birthday presents I ever got."

"Glad you liked it."

"Yup. You've got great taste."

Madame Muffinton chose that moment to run into the room and leap up onto the counter next to Snape. She looked down at the eggs he was working on and promptly swiped at the slimy yellow liquid with her paw. "Dammit, cat!" yelled Snape. He attempted to hit her with the egg beater, but he missed by half a meter. She hissed at him angrily and moved just beyond his reach.

Snape glared at her hatefully. "Lucius!" he roared. "Get your fucking cat away from here!"

"She's fine, Severus," said Lucius wearily, who was working on the other side of the kitchen.

Snape narrowed his eyes maliciously at Madame Muffinton. _I hate that cat_, he thought. _I wish I could kill it. But if Lucius caught me, he'd murder me. If only I could think of a way... _His eyes lit up as brilliant idea occurred to him. He smirked at the cat. ...He knew what to do.

"You know, my Lord," began Snape nonchalantly, "I find it a bit ironic that we are making muffins today, and Lucius actually has a cat _named _Madame Muffinton..."

"Why the fuck is that ironic?" asked Voldemort.

"Well... perhaps ironic wasn't the correct term. _Interesting _might be a better word. _Suggestive_, in a way, don't you think?" Snape's eyes glittered malevolently.

Voldemort thought for a moment, then shook his head. "What are you implying?"

Snape gritted his teeth in annoyance. The Dark Lord was completely incapable of picking up on subtleties. Apparently, Snape was going to have to spell it out for him. Scowling, he said, "Why don't you kill Lucius's fucking cat and cook her in the goddamn muffins, _my Lord_?"

Voldemort's snakelike eyes widened. "Ah, yesss..." he hissed eerily. "That sounds delicious."

Snape scrunched up his face in disgust. He hadn't actually thought the Dark Lord would want to _eat _the cat-muffins. He just wanted to feed them to Lucius. _The Dark Lord is **vile**_, he thought. _Who the fuck eats cats? Only starving people eat cats..._

"Lucius?" called Voldemort in an innocent, conversational tone of voice.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Run out to the store and buy some more eggs."

"Er... but we have eggs, my Lord," said Lucius, sounding thoroughly confused. "And if we need more, Buttmunch can fetch them."

"No, I think I'd like for _you _to get them," insisted Voldemort.

"...Oh... okay," agreed Lucius reluctantly.

Snape watched out of the corner of his eye as Lucius washed his hands and stalked out of the kitchen with a very irritated look on his face. When he was gone, Snape turned back to Voldemort, who was eying Madame Muffinton hungrily.

Snape smiled cruelly at the cat and held out his hand. "Here kitty, kitty..."

**.7.**

Three hours later, Voldemort and his Death Eaters had baked enough muffins to choke a herd of hippogriff. Lucius was in a foul mood because the Dark Lord had found no use for the eggs he'd traveled to the store to get. He kept shooting filthy looks in Voldemort's direction, and he curled his lip in disgust every time the hairless bastard opened his mouth. When the muffins were prepared, Voldemort forced each of his Death Eaters to load about 15 onto his or her plate. Then they wandered into the living room, which, fortunately, had been redecorated. They sat down and made themselves comfortable while Buttmunch bustled back and forth, bringing everyone tea. Snape instructed the elf to pour a large measure of Firewhiskey into this cup.

Once everyone was seated, Voldemort said, "Well, go on, then! Dig in. There's plenty of muffins for everyone!"

_No shit, Sherlock_, thought Snape acerbically. He sneered at the muffins on his plate. He really hated muffins. And he had another reason to be hesitant about eating: he couldn't be entirely sure that Madame Muffinton _herself _was absent from his plate. He hadn't been very observant, but he was confident that the Dark Lord had ensured that Lucius got several cat-muffins. Voldemort was scarfing down muffins with great relish. _Yes, I think he definitely treated himself to several Madame Muffinton muffins_, thought Snape darkly. 

"Severus! Eat!" commanded Voldemort.

"Yes, my Lord." Snape eyed a muffin warily and sniffed at it suspiciously. It appeared to be blueberry. Tentatively, he took a bite. _Well_, he thought, _it's still a filthy fucking muffin, but at least it isn't made of **cat**_.

"Oh, god..."

Snape looked up at Lucius, who was glaring at one of his muffins. He looked quite nauseated.

"Something the matter?" asked Voldemort.

"Ah... perhaps, my Lord," said Lucius. "These muffins... they, er, have a very... unconventional taste. I think we might have... overcooked them."

"Nonsense, Lucius," said Voldemort mellowly. "They're fine. Eat."

Lucius hesitated.

"EAT!" roared Voldemort.

Lucius quickly stuffed the rest of the muffin in his mouth. For a moment, Snape was _sure _he was going to vomit, but apparently Lucius's fear of the Dark Lord outweighed his disgust. He coughed and choked down the food. Then he sat there, panting heavily and looking a bit green.

"Er, my Lord?" he began.

"Yes?"

"I think... I think perhaps there's a bit of... hair in these muffins."

"Oh, that's alright," said Voldemort airily. "I'm sure it's just a bit of Madame Muffinton. ...Er, I mean, a bit of Madame Muffinton's _fur_."

Lucius narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "My Lord... have you seen my cat?"

"Yes, I believe so," replied Voldemort. "I believe I caught my last glimpse of her right before I shoved her... I mean, right before we shoved_ the muffins _into the oven."

Lucius turned a darker shade of green. "My Lord... I'm afraid I'm having trouble discerning... what kind of muffins these are... They aren't poppyseed..."

Voldemort smiled brightly. "Ah. Well, those are my own personal recipe. Kitty muffins."

Lucius leapt from his seat in horror. His plate went crashing to the floor. "Did you cook my cat?!?!"

"Perhaps."

"No, my Lord. Not _perhaps_. Did you, or did you not, cook my fucking cat and then feed it to me?!"

"I did."

"NOOOOO!!! MADAME MUFFINTON! MY BABY!!!"

"BWAHAHAHAHAHA! Kitty: the other, _other _white meat."

This statement was too much for Lucius. He promptly bent over and projectile vomited all over the floor. Seeing this, Alecto, Travers, and Wormtail followed suit. They puked all over the goddamn place. Some of the mess hit Snape, Bellatrix, and Goyle, who shouted, "UGH! SICK!" as the vomit splattered all over their robes. Lucius stood in the middle of the room, his face covered in tears and upchucked muffin (_kitty_-muffin, that is).

"You guys are all really uptight," said Voldemort indifferently, as he bit into another muffin.

Horrified by the fact that Voldemort was still busy munching on his cat, Lucius screamed, "I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS!" Then he fled upstairs to his bedroom without further ado.

**.7.**

After Lucius left, the other Death Eaters sat in queasy silence for about 45 minutes. No one was very enthusiastic about the muffins anymore. Voldemort finally got tired of waiting for Lucius, so he sent Crabbe upstairs to fetch him. Crabbe calmed him down with several shots of Firewhiskey and dragged him back downstairs. He looked much better. Snape wondered exactly how much Firewhiskey he'd had. Everyone sat around quietly for several minutes. Then they got the surprise of their lives...

"Lucius, I'm terribly sorry about your cat," said Voldemort sympathetically.

Lucius's eyes widened. "Did you... did you just _apologize_, my Lord?"

"Yes, Lucius. I'm so dreadfully sorry."

"Oh..."

"Here, let me make it up to you," continued Voldemort. "Let me bring you some tea."

"Oh, but my Lord, that won't be necessary. Buttmunch can get the tea."

"No, no, I insist."

Lucius looked very nervous at the thought of the Dark Lord _serving _him, but he clenched his jaw and said nothing.

Voldemort rushed off to the kitchen, and five minutes later, he returned, holding a cup of tea. Lucius took it gratefully and spent about 10 minutes thanking him profusely. Snape rolled his eyes. He had a funny feeling about this. _Was it just me_, he wondered, _or did the Dark Lord have a particularly sinister gleam in his eye when he handed Lucius that cup? _Snape watched Lucius suspiciously for about half an hour, until he was distracted from his anxious vigil by Amycus, who couldn't seem to stop fidgeting in his chair.

"Good lord, Amycus, do you think you could sit still for five minutes?" asked Snape. "Your squirming is driving me mad."

"Sorry," said Amycus. "Can't help it. I've got an ingrown hair on my ass, and it hurts like a bitch."

Everyone groaned. "Ewww, that's gross!" moaned Bellatrix.

"Yes, congratulations, Amycus," said Snape disdainfully, "you've just managed to make the most disgusting declaration I've heard in six months."

Amycus scowled. "Oh yeah? What about the time Alecto told you about her yeast infection?"

"...Okay, fine," Snape conceded, "_second _most disgusting, then."

Just then, Snape heard Dolohov saying, "Lucius? Are you feeling alright?"

"What?" snapped Lucius. "What are you talking about?"

"You look... a bit odd," commented Alecto.

"It's hot in here," returned Lucius.

"...Not really," said Bellatrix, raising an eyebrow.

Lucius _did _look like he was hot, though. He was sweating. A _lot_. Snape watched him circumspectly for several minutes.

"Jefferson Airplane," said Lucius suddenly.

"...What?" said Travers.

"We have to listen to _White Rabbit _by Jefferson Airplane right now!" exclaimed Lucius.

"Why?" asked Snape in bewilderment.

"What, you don't like Jefferson Airplane?" snapped Lucius accusingly.

"Of course I do!" replied Snape. "But why now?"

"Because we _have _to, dammit!" cried Lucius fervidly.

"Okay..."

Lucius waved his wand at his stereo, and _White Rabbit_ came blasting out loudly.

"Christ, Lucius!" yelled Crabbe. "Turn it down!"

But Lucius wasn't paying any attention. He was already singing along with the song: "_And if you go chasing rabbits, And you know you're going to fall, Tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar Has given you the call-_-"

Everyone watched in astonishment as Lucius stood up and started swaying gracefully with the music.

"Oh my god!" cried Lucius abruptly. He pointed at the corner of the room. "Look!"

Everyone looked, but there was nothing to look _at_.

"Look at _what_?" snapped Goyle irritably.

"It's the Horse of a Different Color!" cried Lucius ecstatically.

Goyle's eyes widened. "Uhhhh, Lucius... there's nothing there."

"The horse of a _what_?" asked Snape.

"The Horse of a _Different Color_!" repeated Lucius, as if this statement explained everything.

"A different color?" asked Snape, completely nonplussed. "Different from what? What color? What are you _talking _about?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "It's from the _The Wizard of Oz_. It's the horse that pulls Dorthy and her friends (in a carriage) around the Emerald City before they go to meet the Wizard. Honestly, Snape, how can you not know that?"

"Unlike _you_, Bellatrix," sneered Snape, "I consider my time far too valuable to waste sitting around watching muggle films."

"It isn't my fault! They _made _us watch them!" cried Bellatrix indignantly. "Every Friday night in Azkaban was movie night!"

"Muggle films every Friday night?" asked Snape incredulously. "That must have been torturous."

"It was."

"Why have I never heard about this?"

"Because the Ministry suppresses the information," she explained. "If it got out that Azkaban was torturing its prisoners with muggle films, there'd be public outrage. Witches and wizards all over the country would start protesting and complaining about 'cruel and unusual punishment'. It'd be a nightmare of epic proportions for the Ministry."

"I can imagine," breathed Snape.

"You want to know my biggest reason for hating Sirius Black?"

"Yes."

"After he escaped," she began, "the Dementors were _furious_. And they took out their anger on the rest of the prisoners. They forced us to watch Tom Cruise films every Friday night for three months."

Snape gasped, too horrified to speak.

"Exactly," said Bellatrix, nodding. "It was unbearable. After the first month, I asked the Dementors to kiss me. They refused. They seemed to think that making us watch that short, deranged little bastard dance around on a screen for three months was a far worse punishment."

"And they were right, weren't they?" asked Snape.

"Absolutely."

"Oh, Bella... I'm so sorry. I mean... I hate you, but I wouldn't force something like _that _on anyone."

Bellatrix nodded in acknowledgment of Snape's concern and said nothing. She became very quiet, and after a few seconds, she shuddered. Snape supposed she was reliving an especially unpleasant memory. _Probably_, he thought, _a scene from that ungodly cinematic abortion, 'Vanilla Sky'._

Lucius wasn't paying attention to anyone. He was still staring feverishly at the corner of the room, where the Horse supposedly stood. "I'm going to talk to it!" he said excitedly.

"But there's nothing there!" yelled Alecto.

"Yes there is!" insisted Lucius. "You can't see it because it only wants to speak to me! It has _chosen _me! It has revealed itself _only _to me!"

"Are you completely off your nut?!" exclaimed Rabastan.

"I must speak with it!" said Lucius.

Voldemort and his Death Eaters watched in stunned silence as Lucius cautiously approached the empty corner.

"O wise Horse of a Different Color," he said, addressing a bare stretch of wall with a bizarre air of reverence. "There is a boon I must ask of the Wizard of Oz. Will you guide me thither?"

"What the hell?" muttered Rabastan. "Who the fuck uses words like 'boon' and 'thither'? Is he trapped in a fantasy novel?"

"Thank you, O beneficent Horse!" cried Lucius, who appeared to be talking to himself.

Bellatrix looked over at Snape and mouthed, _'beneficent'?? _Snape shrugged. He had no idea why Lucius would use such a stupid word.

Lucius turned to face his friends, who all stared at him blankly. "It has agreed to guide me!"

"Guide you where?" asked Travers.

"To the Wizard! The Wizard of Oz! But we must make a long journey!"

"...Journey?" repeated Wormtail moronically.

"Yes! Deep into muggle London! And the Horse -- He warns me that I must shed these wizard's robes!"

"Are you _shitting _me?!" exclaimed Bellatrix. "You want to wander around London dressed like a muggle??"

"No, not dressed as a muggle! Dressed as the Horse, who is capable of shifting His color at will!"

Without warning, Lucius seized the front of his robes and ripped them open with surprising strength. Then he threw them to the ground in one graceful, fluid gesture. He stood there naked, beaming at everyone in the room.

"Holy SHIT, Lucius!" cried Snape, Bellatrix, Alecto, and Rabastan in unison.

"Put your clothes back on, you maniac!" yelled Amycus.

Rodolphus grinned slyly. "Now _this _is my kind of party!"

"Shut up, you rapist," hissed Snape. "He's out of his mind, and I will _not _allow you to molest him!"

"Lucius, get dressed, you nutcase!" hollered Crabbe.

"No, I must follow Him!" insisted Lucius. "He leads me onward!"

"Leads you _where_?" asked Goyle.

"To the Wizard!" cried Lucius ardently. "When I return, I shall bring with me the wisdom of that mighty prophet!"

And with that, Lucius disapparated.

The room went silent for about 30 seconds. Then everyone began speaking at once.

"Uh, What just happened?" asked Crabbe.

"Should someone try to find him?" asked Rabastan.

"Where exactly did he go?" queried Dolohov.

"Yeah, where could we look?" asked Goyle.

"He said something about muggles..." muttered Amycus thoughtfully.

"Surely he isn't going to walk into muggle London," said Alecto doubtfully.

"If he does, we'll find out. After all, he's walking around naked," commented Rodolphus, with a wistful expression on his face.

"The Ministry is going to hear about this," remarked Travers nervously.

"Why was he talking to a horse?" asked Wormtail.

"I still don't understand why the horse is a 'different color'," said Snape mockingly.

"I think we should call Cissy," said Bellatrix.

Everyone looked at the Dark Lord, expecting him to say something. He was sitting in his chair, tapping his wand against his palm and smiling serenely. When it became clear that he wasn't going to speak, Snape asked, "My Lord? Can you shed any light on this confusing... turn of events?"

Voldemort smiled mischievously. "I think what we've just witnessed is an unfortunate drug reaction. Pity. I had hoped Lucius would have better tolerance."

"What do you mean?" asked Dolohov.

"Well," continued Voldemort, "Lucius might have... _accidentally _ingested a rather large amount of LSD."

"Accidentally?" asked Goyle suspiciously.

Voldemort looked smug. "From _his _perspective, yes, it would have been an accident. From my perspective, it was a _most _clever scheme, with a _most _amusing -- and therefore satisfactory -- outcome."

"What do you mean?" asked Amycus densely.

"I slipped him LSD. In his tea."

"You spiked his tea??" asked Travers disbelievingly.

Snape slumped forward in his chair and buried his head in his hands.

"I'm calling Cissy," said Bellatrix, leaping from her seat and whipping out her cell phone.

While Bellatrix called Narcissa, who was out shopping, the other Death Eaters began an animated discussion about what they should do. Several suggested that the Ministry be informed -- after all, Lucius would get into a lot of trouble if he started wandering around London naked. Snape sat there with a stoic expression on his face, but his mind was reeling. _I can't believe this has happened_, he thought. _The Dark Lord is **such **a jackass. Someone needs to find Lucius. Why do I have this horrible feeling it's going to have to be me?_

"Snape," called Bellatrix, "Cissy wants to talk to you."

Snape groaned inwardly and took the phone from Bellatrix. "Hello?"

"Oh, Severus, this is awful!" exclaimed Narcissa.

"Yes... it is extraordinarily unfortunate," said Snape noncommittally.

"You have to find him, Severus!"

"What? Why me?"

"Because it's your fault!" wailed Narcissa.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" asked Snape indignantly.

"You took _The Rocky Horror Picture Show _from him!"

"So? That's a _good _thing! Lucius didn't need to be watching that! It was warping his mind."

"Yes," said Narcissa exasperatedly, "but he got bored because he had nothing to watch, so he went and bought _The Wizard of Oz_. He's been watching it nonstop for three days."

"So you want _me _to go find him because you think I'm responsible for the _theme _of Lucius's drug-induced insanity?"

"Yes!"

"Goddammit, Narcissa..."

"Please, Severus! He's your friend!"

"...Fine," he said resignedly.

"Thank you! Take Bella with you," said Narcissa.

"No!" exclaimed Snape angrily. "If I'm going to go on this ridiculous quest, I'm certainly not going to allow that raunchy little hooker to tag along after me."

"But you must!" pleaded Narcissa. "Bella knows Lucius almost as well as you do. Together, you'll have a better chance of finding him! Please!"

"FINE!" bellowed Snape, and he hung up on her. He turned to Bellatrix. "You're coming with me."

She nodded curtly and looked over at the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters, who were watching this exchange in silence. "My Lord," she said carefully, "may we have permission to search for Lucius?"

Voldemort shrugged. "Doesn't make any difference to me." He paused. "But would you like another kitty-muffin before you go?"

"Er... no thank you," said Bellatrix queasily.

"Suit yourself," said Voldemort as he bit into a muffin.

All the Death Eaters cringed and turned a delicate shade of green. It had been a relatively unpleasant day, and they really weren't in the mood to watch the Dark Lord eat cat muffins.

"We'll just... go now," said Snape.

He and Bellatrix walked hurriedly to the front door and stepped outside. Snape and Bellatrix unceremoniously ripped the bumper stickers from their heads and stood there panting. They were both still thinking about the muffins...

Snape fought down his nausea and asked, "What should we do?"

"I think we should call the please-men," said Bellatrix.

"It's _police _men, you ignorant skank!" spat Snape.

"Fine, whatever!"

"What good will that do, anyway?"

"We can have them call us whenever they get reports about Lucius!" she explained. "And you _know _there will be reports. God only knows what he'll get up to."

"And why would they tell us?" asked Snape. "They'll think we're private citizens."

"I'll put the Chief of Please--"

"It's _police_, stupid!" interrupted Snape. "Chief of _Police_!"

"WHATEVER! I'll put the guy under the Imperius Curse, and then he'll call and tell us where Lucius has been sighted."

"Can you even _do _an Imperius Curse over the phone?" asked Snape dubiously.

"We're about to find out."

He watched her as she made several phone calls. She finally got hold of the Chief of Police. Snape held his breath when she pointed her wand at the phone receiver and whispered, _Imperio! _A few seconds later, it became clear that the spell had worked. He couldn't help feeling a bit impressed. Bellatrix hung up the phone and turned back to him.

"See?" she said smugly. "Nothing to it. He'll call us the second he hears anything strange about _anything_. With any luck, we'll be able to arrive on the scene before the other police officers do."

"Good," he said. "And now we wait."

Bellatrix nodded. "Now we wait."

**.7.**

As it turned out, they didn't have to wait long at all. Approximately 15 minutes after Bellatrix made the call, the phone rang. She answered it and discovered that Lucius had been sighted in a grocery store. Bellatrix told the Police Chief to call the store and warn the manager that two "specialists" would be arriving in a few moments. She ordered him to tell the manager that he was to answer all of their questions and cooperate as fully as possible. Then she hung up the phone, and they immediately disapparated.

When they arrived in front of the store, they were relieved to see that nothing appeared to be drastically wrong. Fortunately, they had gotten there before the police. They walked inside and looked around curiously. Noticing their entrance, the manager rushed toward them.

"Are you the detectives who are supposed to be hunting that maniac?"

"Uh... yes. What's happened?" asked Bellatrix anxiously.

"He came in here NUDE!" cried the muggle. "He was carrying a stick, and he must be some kind of magician, or something!"

"Er, what do you mean?" asked Bellatrix apprehensively.

"He made a plastic bag shoot straight out of the stick! Remarkable trick, it was. Never seen anything like it in my life."

"Ah... yes... well, I suppose he _is _a magician... of sorts," said Snape awkwardly.

"The bastard trashed half of my store and then robbed me!"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "He stole your money?"

"No, not exactly..." said the manager.

"Then what did he take?" asked Bellatrix.

"Well, he went over to the chips aisle and stole all the Cheetos!"

"_All _of them?" asked Snape.

"No, actually, just the puffy ones," amended the muggle. "He didn't touch the crunchy ones."

Snape rolled his eyes. "What else did he take?"

"He ran over to the pharmacy section and ransacked it! He stole about eight packs of latex condoms!"

"Heh. What size?" asked Bellatrix cheekily.

"Er, Magnums, I believe."

Bellatrix snorted.

"What else did he steal?" asked Snape.

"He stole my entire stock of vaginal douches!"

"HAHAHAHAHA!" cackled Bellatrix.

"Shut up, Bellatrix!" hissed Snape. He turned back to the store manager. "What else?"

"He stole a pregnancy test. ...He said he was 'late'."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I said shut _up_, Bellatrix!" growled Snape, shaking his head. "What else?" he asked the muggle.

"He took 26 tubes of Preparation H. He said Preparation H felt good 'on the hole'."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Snape gritted his teeth and ignored Bellatrix. "And what else?"

The muggle searched his memory. "Uh, I think the only other thing was 12 tubes of Monistat 7, which he said he needed for his... yeast infection."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Bellatrix fell to the floor, overcome with hysterical laughter.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BELLATRIX!" screamed Snape.

The muggle furrowed his brow and gazed down at Bellatrix. Then he looked back up at Snape and asked, "Er... will she be alright?"

"She's fine!" snarled Snape. Then he kicked Bellatrix in the stomach as hard as he could.

"OUCH!" she howled. "BASTARD!" She jumped up and aimed her wand at him.

"What the hell is that?!" cried the muggle. "That's the same kind of stick the crazy guy had!"

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at the muggle and asked, "Do you have any more information for us?"

"Well, no, I think that's about--"

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The muggle fell to the ground. Snape stared at him for a moment and then turned to glare at Bellatrix. "Dammit, what the hell is the matter with you? You can't kill every muggle we question!"

"Why not?" asked Bellatrix, looking genuinely puzzled.

"You just _can't_, you murderous gorgon! We need to Obliviate them when we're finished with them. Don't kill them."

"Fine," she said sulkily.

Snape sighed. "Alright, now we need to burn the store down."

"Why?"

"So that the Ministry won't get wind of a muggle who died suddenly with no marks on him! It sounds suspicious!"

"Oh. Right."

They set fire to the muggle, then walked around the store, pointing their wands and yelling, "_Incendio!"_ whenever they came across what looked like an especially flammable object. Five minutes later, they decided they'd done a pretty satisfactory job and headed outside. As they stepped out onto the street, Bellatrix's phone rang. She talked to the police for a couple of minutes and then hung up.

"The police guy says there's some naked nutcase robbing a thrift shop."

Snape nodded. "Let's go."

.7.

They apparated outside the thrift store and rushed inside. Everything looked normal, but the clerk ran up to them, panting and looking quite alarmed.

"We're the detecteds," said Bellatrix confidently.

The clerk frowned. "...You mean the _detectives_?"

Bellatrix blushed. "Uh... oh. Yeah, that's what I meant."

Snape smirked. "I'm afraid my companion has a speech impediment."

She elbowed him hard in the ribs. As he gasped and doubled over, she asked the muggle, "What happened here?"

The muggle shook his head and said, "Honestly, I'm not sure. Some lunatic came in here _naked _and started trying on clothes."

"Oh, thank god," muttered Bellatrix. "So did clothe himself before he left?"

"Well, yes," replied the clerk, "but he looked and acted very... well, it was... bizarre."

"How so?"

"He came in here talking to himself, and he seemed to think he was following a colorful horse, or something..."

"The Horse of a Different Color!" hissed Bellatrix.

"Er, right... Well, anyway, he tried on a million different things. He kept babbling about how he had to be dressed appropriately to meet the Wizard of Oz..."

"I see," said Bellatrix.

"And honestly, this guy seemed like he'd been practicing witchcraft himself!"

"What do you mean?" asked Snape.

"Well, he pointed a stick at clothes, and they would just zoom toward him! Weirdest thing I ever saw in my life."

Bellatrix cast a sideways glance at Snape, then asked, "Well, what was he wearing when he left?"

The muggle shook his head in stupefaction. "He found a pair of bell-bottoms, which were covered in glitter and peace signs. He was wearing flip-flops. He put a ballerina's tutu over the pants. He put on a tank top that said 'Sploogefest 1992'. He tied a rainbow scarf around his waist and a lime green belt around his neck. Then he topped it all off with a gigantic cowboy hat."

Just as the muggle finished his speech, Bellatrix's phone rang.

Snape ignored her conversation and asked the muggle, "Is there anything else you should tell us?"

"Nope, that's about it--"

"_Obliviate!_"

Snape watched as the muggle's eyes went out of focus. Bellatrix hung up her phone and said, "The police guy says he's at Piccadilly Circus."

"Great," said Snape sardonically.

**.7.**

They apparated in the middle of Piccadilly Circus and looked around, frantically searching for any sign of Lucius.

"Oh, for god's sake!" said Bellatrix, as she laid eyes on a large neon sign, which read, 'L'Oreal -- because I'm worth it'.

Snape looked around. There were advertisements for hair care products _everywhere_. "Damn Lucius and his imbecilic hair fetish!"

"Oh my GOD!" shrieked Bellatrix, pointing at the video displays, which were now showing graphic pornography. "What do we do?"

"Shit!" exclaimed Snape, as he watched a well-hung Mexican insert his... well... you get the idea. "Call Narcissa, and tell her to alert the Ministry."

As he waited for her to make the phone call, he tried to avert his eyes from the display screens. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. He stared at the Mexican with a bemused expression on his face. _Wow_, he thought, _I bet that guy's proud of himself_. _He certainly should be._ _That thing's got to be at least a foot long... It's as if someone used an Engorgement Charm on him..._

He was drawn out of his reverie by Bellatrix's voice. "Oh, Cissy! I have to go! I've got another call."

Snape watched her answer the call. He couldn't hear most of what she was saying. The conversation was drowned out by the loud grunts and moans which were issuing from the display screens. Snape guessed Lucius had conjured speakers and hidden them somewhere nearby.

Bellatrix hung up the phone. "He's at the Old Vic."

Snape nodded, and they disapparated.

**.7.**

They apparated in front of the theater and rushed inside. They looked around and discovered that Lucius was already gone. It was clear that he'd been there, though: the poor muggles who had come to see a production of _Macbeth _were instead being forced to watch a reenactment of _The Matrix_. Lucius had apparently put the actors under the Imperius Curse. They literally had a _captive_ audience -- the muggles had been chained to their seats.

Snape and Bellatrix gaped at the stage in horror as the muggle playing the spoon boy said, "Do not try and bend the spoon. That's impossible. Instead... only try to realize the truth."

"What truth?" asked the muggle playing Neo.

"There is no spoon," replied spoon boy.

Bellatrix and Snape watched in silence for several minutes. Finally, Bellatrix tore her eyes from the stage and said, "Well, you've got to admit -- that actor's doing a much better job than Keanu Reeves."

"That's because Keanu Reeves is a mentally challenged, talentless hack," sneered Snape.

"True," agreed Bellatrix. "He's a brain-dead fuck."

"Bellatrix..." said Snape quietly. "Look at the audience... do you notice anything unusual?"

She squinted at the muggles and gasped. "Oh my god! They've all been transfigured to look like Rosie O' Donnell!"

Snape shook his head slowly. "Not all of them..."

After a moment, Bellatrix saw what he meant. "Oh, gross! Some of them look like Donald Trump!"

The phone rang. It was the police chief, calling to tell Bellatrix that Lucius had been sighted at another theater -- The Dominion -- in West End.

After she hung up, Snape told her to call Narcissa again. As soon as she got off the phone, they disapparated.

**.7.**

They arrived at The Dominion and ran inside.

They were too late to catch Lucius. They discovered that the audience was, once again, being held captive. Lucius had erected a huge screen in the center of the stage, and the movie _Charlie's Angels _was playing. That might not have been so bad, were it not for the fact that he'd dubbed over Cameron Diaz's voice and added a charm which made her sound like Fran Drescher. He'd also dubbed over Bosley and given him Gilbert Gottfried's voice. It was gruesome...

"Good lord!" exclaimed Snape, disgusted.

"Yes... Lucius has a sick, sick mind," observed Bellatrix soberly.

"You know, though," said Snape, "Lucy Liu is a very attractive woman."

"Yeah, but Drew Barrymore is a fat cow."

"She really isn't that fat in this movie," returned Snape.

"I think that's because her trainer chained her to an exercise bike and confiscated her Twinkies."

"Probably," agreed Snape. "And I think Drew Barrymore's problem is that she has a fat _personality_."

"Definitely. Total porker."

Snape sighed. "Well, I suppose you should call Narcissa again. But let's go outside. If I have to listen to Fran Drescher do that awful cackle one more time, I'm going to vomit all over my boots."

"Same here."

They left the theater and stood outside for several minutes while Bellatrix talked to Narcissa and smoked a Lucky Strike cigarette. Snape coughed on the smoke and moved several paces away. _Typical_, he thought. _Why am I not surprised that Bellatrix would smoke a filthy, horrid, **unfiltered **Lucky Strike? Because she's a man, **that's **why. _She hung up the phone, and they stood around for a further 10 minutes, waiting to hear something from the police. After what seemed like an eternity, the Chief called. All he said was, "The-the Tower... the Clock!" Then he hung up the phone.

When Bellatrix told Snape what the muggle had said, Snape raised an eyebrow quizzically. Bellatrix shrugged resignedly, and seconds later, they disapparated.

**.7.**

They appeared in front of the Tower of Big Ben at 6:45.

"Oh god..." whispered Bellatrix.

"The Clock Tower..." breathed Snape despairingly. Snape wasn't the biggest muggle-fan in the world, but he knew how to appreciate beautiful architecture when he saw it. He'd always rather liked the Tower, and he felt an overwhelming sense of depression as he gazed at...

"A 50 meter statue of Arnold Schwarzenegger from _The Terminator_?!?!" cried Bellatrix, utterly appalled.

"From the _what_?" asked Snape.

"It's a muggle film about a robot from the future who returns to the past to kill a woman because her son will grow up to defeat the machines."

"Well, _that _sounds quality," said Snape sarcastically.

He and Bellatrix jumped in surprise as the Arnold statue opened it's mouth and shouted, "I'LL BE BACK!" in a grating Austrian accent.

"Holy fuck!" exclaimed Bellatrix. "Snape, fix it before everyone sees!"

"What are you talking about?! I'm not powerful enough to fix that!"

"Yes you are!" insisted Bellatrix stubbornly. "You're every bit as powerful as Lucius!"

"So are you! _You _fix it!" snarled Snape.

"I can't! How the hell do you expect me to transfigure that back to normal?!"

"Well, I can't do it either!"

"How did Lucius do it?" asked Bellatrix, somewhat awestruck.

"Not sure," replied Snape thoughtfully. "He's hopped up on acid. Maybe that helped..."

"So there's no way for us to fix it?"

"No. Call Narcissa. _Quickly!_ The Ministry is going to have to Obliviate half of London!"

Bellatrix wasted no time. She snatched the phone out of her robes and dialed her sister. Snape continued to stare at the statue with an expression of profound revulsion. When Bellatrix hung up the phone, Snape said, "We've got to leave. I don't want to be seen anywhere near here. I have a feeling the Ministry will be conducting quite a few inquiries."

"Right," agreed Bellatrix.

They held hands and turned on the spot.

They apparated back to Piccadilly Circus to see what kind of progress was being made. The display screens had been fixed, but a lot of the neon signs were still being worked on. Snape and Bellatrix cast disillusionment charms on themselves and watched the other wizards work. They had nothing better to do while they waited for the police to call. They stood around for hours. Bellatrix spent most of this time smoking and stomping her feet impatiently. Snape watched her wearily and wondered how she still had so much energy. _Maybe insanity gives you unnatural endurance_, he mused. _And if nothing else, Bellatrix has definitely got insanity on her side_.

Finally, at 10:45 PM, the Chief of Police notified them that a tattoo artist from a shady establishment had called him. Apparently, the tattoo artist had turned on the radio and heard some of the reports about all the strange occurrences in the area. He had a guy in his parlor who fit Lucius's description. The Police Chief told Bellatrix that the tattoo parlor was called 'Tats-4-Less'. After she hung up the phone, she and Snape stared at each other for several long seconds. Then they shook their heads, joined arms, and turned on the spot.

**.7.**

They apparated in front of the shady little tattoo parlor at 10:50 PM. When they walked inside, they saw Lucius lying on a table. He was dressed in the same ridiculous outfit that the muggle at the thrift shop had described, and he'd apparently ripped the bumper sticker off his head at some point. He was being tattooed by a large, burly muggle, who looked extremely nervous and uncomfortable.

"Lucius! What the fuck are you doing!" yelled Snape.

"We've been hunting your ass all day, you stupid piece of shit!" screamed Bellatrix furiously.

Lucius beamed at them. "The Horse -- it told me how to find the Wizard! He led me here!"

"What are you talking about?!" barked Snape.

The muggle tattoo artist raised his left hand. "Yeah, apparently that'd be me. Your friend here seems to be under the impression that I'm the Wizard of Oz. He told me a different colored horse led him here."

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't speak unless you're spoken to, _muggle_. And it's 'The Horse of a Different Color'!"

"What did you just call me?" asked the muggle.

Lucius leapt up from the table. "Look!" he cried ecstatically. "I got three tattoos!"

"Oh, Lucius, please tell me you didn't," said Snape in an exhausted tone of voice.

"Here, check out my tramp stamp!" Lucius turned around and pulled up his shirt. There was a grotesque tattoo on his lower back. _Really _grotesque. ...It was a picture of a naked Native American straddling a corn dog.

"What in FUCK's name is THAT?!" shrieked Bellatrix.

"And look at this one!" said Lucius happily, as he pulled down his bell bottoms and showed them his bare ass. Well... actually, it wasn't really a _bare _ass anymore. Lucius had gotten a picture of Michael Jackson tattooed on his left butt-cheek... and in Michael Jackson's lap sat Macaulay Culkin, who had his hands pressed against his face in a silent scream: a frightfully accurate rendition of that stupid scene from _Home Alone_.

"WHAT IS **WRONG **WITH YOU?!?!" bellowed Snape.

"Oh god!" cried Bellatrix. "Cissy is going to kill us for letting this happen!"

"For _letting _this happen?!" snarled Snape. "No, no, we've been chasing this stupid bastard all night! This is NOT our fault!"

"Hey!" shouted Lucius, frustrated that his friends had stopped paying attention to him. "You haven't seen the other one!"

Bellatrix and Snape turned back to Lucius apprehensively. He pulled down the front of his pants to show them... a ghastly tattoo of Pee-Wee Herman's face right above his crotch. Pee-Wee was smiling mischievously and looking downward... right at Lucius's dick. In order to get the tattoo sufficiently close to Lucius's _equipment_, the tattoo artist had had to shave all of his pubic hair.

"...Why, Lucius? _Why_?" asked Snape miserably.

"Uhhh, what are you going to do when your pubes grow back and cover up part of Pee-Wee's face?" asked Bellatrix.

"Then Pee-Wee will have a beard!" proclaimed Lucius proudly, as if this was a terribly clever idea.

Bellatrix and Snape gawked at him. They were speechless.

"_Well_, what do you think?" asked Lucius, somewhat impatiently.

"I think," said Bellatrix slowly, "you're the dumbest person I've ever met."

Snape nodded affirmatively. "And _I _think you're going to regret this night for _decades_."

"Come on, Lucius," said Bellatrix. "We're leaving."

"Not yet, you're not," said the muggle. "This guy owes me a lot of money."

"I don't carry muggle money," said Bellatrix coldly. "And I wouldn't pay you for _defacing _my sister's husband's body, anyway."

"Now wait just a second--" began the muggle.

"_Obliviate!" _shouted Snape.

A dazed look passed over the muggle's face.

"Let's go!" said Bellatrix. Together, she and Snape grabbed Lucius and turned on the spot.

.7.

Twenty minutes later, Bellatrix and Snape were standing in the parlor of Malfoy Manor, being screamed at by an enraged Narcissa. When she saw what had happened to her husband, she'd sent him straight upstairs to bed. Now she was busy berating her sister and friend at the top of her lungs.

"HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN?!?!" she shrieked.

"This isn't our motherfucking _fault_, Narcissa!" yelled Snape.

"I TOLD YOU TO FIND HIM!"

"We _did _find him, Cissy!" squeaked Bellatrix. "Just... not soon enough." For once, Narcissa actually looked more formidable than her sister, and Bellatrix was cowering accordingly.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FIND HIM SOONER?!?"

"Uh... well... er... It was all Snape's fault!" cried Bellatrix.

"What?" he snapped.

"It was all you!" she growled. "You greasy jackass!"

Snape glared at her furiously. "Who lit the fuse on _your _tampon, _bitch_?"

"How dare you--" began Bellatrix.

"Stop trying to push the blame off on me, you cowardly whore!" spat Snape.

"SHUT UP!" roared Narcissa.

"No, _you _shut up," snarled Snape. "_Both _of you. I refuse to stand here and allow you to browbeat me, Narcissa. I found your crazed husband for you, and I will _not _take responsibility for the psychotic behavior he engaged in before I finally managed to locate him. I'm leaving."

Narcissa said nothing. She was beside herself with fury.

_Predictably_, however, Bellatrix refused to let Snape have the last word. "Asshole," she muttered. 

"Fuck you, you back-alley prostitute," answered Snape.

Bellatrix raised an eloquent eyebrow. "Suit yourself. Oh, and by the way..."

"_What?" _spat Snape.

"Perhaps I should have informed you of this earlier," she began coolly, "but I... _forgot_. You remember that bumper sticker about the _farting_? Yeah, it's still stapled to your ass."

"Goddammit!" shouted Snape. He reached around and ripped off the offensive sticker. "Damn you, Bellatrix! Damn you to the ninth circle of Dante's vile, wretched hell!"

She smirked at him smugly. Snape turned his back on Bellatrix and Narcissa (who was still glaring at him with her fists clenched) and exited the Manor.

He immediately disapparated, reappearing seconds later just outside Hogwarts. _This day has been **vexing**, to say the least_, he thought. _Not as bad as the Muggle Hunt, but infinitely worse than the gay pride parade. GOD, I hate my life. But you know... I have a funny feeling that when Lucius comes down off those drugs and wakes up in the morning, he's going to hate **his **life even more than I hate **mine**._

.7.

* * *

Acknowledgments:

1) The idea for the overarching theme for this chapter came from Angel-o-Darkness, who suggested that the Dark Lord spike Lucius's tea with a muggle drug, which would prompt him to go on a crazy search for The Horse of a Different Color (from The Wizard of Oz). Only Lucius would be able to see the horse. Snape, under pressure from Narcissa, would go searching for Lucius, who would be running around London, doing crazy things and wearing ridiculous clothing. Then Snape would finally find him in a tattoo parlor, getting an absurd tattoo right above his crotch. A hilarious idea! I only hope I managed to do it justice. (Oh, and thanks for telling me what the horse was. I haven't seen _The Wizard of Oz_ in years.)

2) xXblacksakuraXx was my inspiration for the staple gun incident. She suggested that the Dark Lord go crazy with a stapler, and that idea struck me as being _obscenely _amusing! (I had to use a staple gun, though, because I needed Voldemort to be able to staple people from a distance.) She also suggested the muffin party! I like muffins. They're funny. 'Muffin' is a funny word.

And I didn't personally make up the sayings for those bumper stickers. Those are real bumper stickers, which I found online. I also didn't come up with the idea for the corndog tattoo or the Michael Jackson one. I found pictures of them online. Somewhere in the world, someone _actually_ has those tattoos. Ah, but the Pee-Wee with a beard of pubic hair idea was totally mine. Yeah, I'm a pervert. Go me!

* * *

Thanks for reading! And thanks again to those of you who have reviewed and to those of you who have provided me with inspiration! You're brilliant, and I love you all! Anyway, please review this insane chapter. I really want to know what you guys think! 

(By the way, I know I make fun of _The Rocky Horror Picture Show _a lot, but that's one of my favorite moves. I love _The Terminator_, too. Oh, and as for the Tom Cruise thing -- yeah, I really do despise him. My hated for that man is fierce and unbounded.)


	9. Lucius! Use The Force!

**101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life**

* * *

Forgive me, readers, for I have sinned! Yes, I have sinned grievously by not updating this story in almost three months! I'm _really_ sorry, but here's what happened: I apparently murdered several dozen people in a past life. At least, I assume I must have, because I can't think of anything I've done in _this_ life to justify the shit I've been having to deal with lately. I could explain, but I honestly don't have the energy. I knew back before I finished chapter 7 that things were about to get pretty rough around here, but (to quote my esteemed president) I "misunderestimated" how bad the situation would get. My life became _extremely _hectic. I'm sorry I haven't responded to any PMs or reviews or anything until recently, but I just managed to get my internet connection set up in my new house about a week ago. 

Anyway, I'm back. Betcha all thought I was dead or sick of writing, huh? No, no – never. I'm wayyyyy too amused by my own stupidity and all of your fabulous ideas! I hope I'll be able to update more frequently now, but I can't give you a timeframe. It all depends. I will definitely be updating, though; this is the only source of silliness and stupidity in my life at the moment, and I have no desire to let go of it. For a while there, I kind of felt like I'd blown a "funny fuse." Sometimes, when you spend all your time making other people laugh during a difficult situation, you forget to laugh yourself. So, I feel like I've fallen out of my stride a bit. This chapter was hard to write for some reason. Despite the impressive influx of ideas from all my lovely reviewers, I had trouble pulling them together. In fact, I had SO much trouble that I actually watched all three of the original _Star Wars_ movies. (Yes, my writers' block was THAT bad.) And for the record, I don't even _like_ those movies. If it hadn't been for the fact that James Earl Jones did the voice of Darth Vader, I wouldn't have made it through them. Fortunately, James Earl Jones is awesome – I could listen to him read the list of ingredients on the backs of shampoo bottles for hours and still be entertained.

The first little section of this chapter isn't actually intended to be funny. I was just trying to drag Snape (kicking and screaming) back into character. And you will notice that I've only used a couple of your ideas. I'm sorry about that – I'll integrate more of your ideas into each chapter in the future, but I was having a lot of trouble writing this. I was just anxious to crank this one out, and I needed to use this chapter to get my bearings. I'm not entirely pleased with my work on this one, actually. As it turns out, writing a _Star Wars_ RPG was sort of difficult. I didn't really know what to do, so I figured I'd just make the characters yell and scream at each other. As usual. No surprises there. Again, credit will be given at the end of the chapter.

By the way, one of my reviewers called something to my attention: in the course of this story, Snape has brought about the death of two cats. I didn't realize it until someone pointed it out. When I killed Madame Muffinton in chapter 7, I didn't even think about the fact that I'd also killed Umbridge's cat in chapter 5. While it's true that I often impress my views and opinions (e.g., thinking Tom Cruise is a no-talent, despicable, pathetic waste of space who shouldn't be allowed to breathe the same air as the rest of us) onto my characters, Snape's hatred of cats was not inspired by my own feelings. Actually, I have four myself (yes, I'm one of _those_ women – a crazy cat-lady). I don't really know why I decided to make Snape hate cats. Maybe it's because he strikes me as the kind of person who would hate pretty, fluffy, sweet things.

**NOTE**: For those of you who haven't watched _Star Wars_ in awhile, don't worry. I doubt any of this will go over your heads. There's not a whole lot of plot involved.

**New spells (_several_ of them) and their _very_ loose translations**:

_Corruo_ – to fall to the ground; sink down

_Resarcio Sanitas_ – to restore to sanity

_Consurgo_ – to stand; rise

_Depulso_ – to thrust away

_Surculus Capillus_ – to sprout hair

_Subsisto _– to cease; halt

**Disclaimer**: Nothing, nothing, nothing is mine. My reviewers' ideas obviously aren't mine. I had nothing to do with the creation of _Star Wars_. The long, random _Clerks_ parody definitely isn't mine. The paraphrased quote from _Bad Santa_ doesn't belong to me. And we all know who Snape, Lucius, etc. belong to.

* * *

**.8.**

**Chapter 8: Lucius! Use the force!**

It was Sunday, October 5th, and Severus Snape had decided, for once, to sleep late. He was having a _very_ pleasant dream…

"_Well, well, well, Mr. Potter," said Snape softly. "It seems you are in __**quite**__ a predicament…"_

_Snape smiled cruelly as he watched The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Live-A-Hell-Of-A-Lot-Longer-If-Snape-Had-Anything-To-Say-About-It slowly wake from a sound, potion-induced sleep. Harry opened his eyes and gazed at Snape drowsily for a moment before realizing that something was horribly wrong. For a few seconds, he simply stared blankly as his professor's cold, obsidian eyes bored into him; then something seemed to click, and Harry's eyes widened in fear as he attempted to leap to his feet. That move proved unwise, however, as his efforts to stand were thwarted by the ropes which bound his hands and ankles, and he immediately toppled to the ground, landing unceremoniously on his face. Snape let out a harsh laugh as Harry struggled to sit up._

"_My deepest and most profound apologies, Potter," said Snape with mock sincerity. "Clearly, I should have explained the full details of your situation to you at the outset. As usual, you are incapable of looking before you leap, and for __**once**__, that decision has caused you to fall flat on your face – __**literally**__, in this instance."_

"_Let me loose, Snape!" yelled Harry furiously._

"_Manners, Potter," returned Snape dangerously. "The rest of the world may blithely ignore or foolishly indulge your insolence, but you will not receive the same blind tolerance from me."_

"_You're going to regret this. When Professor Dumbledore finds out about this, you won't __**just**__ get fired – you'll be sent to Azkaban!"_

"_Ah, but the Headmaster is already aware. He cannot help you, Potter – or rather, he __**will**__ not help you. He has agreed—"_

"_Dumbledore would never agree to something like this, you evil, lying git!"_

"_Hmm, I really prefer the title "Professor," Potter, but since I'm having such a __**delightful**__ time, I am in rather a pleasant mood and – therefore – prepared to excuse your lack of manners. I suppose you can hardly be faulted for your poor social graces, after all – not only were you raised by muggles, but you are also the son of James Potter, a hereditary condition which no doubt impairs both your ability to reason and your ability to hold your tongue when necessary."_

"_You won't get away with this!" cried Harry, glaring at Snape with all the hatred he could muster._

"_Are you quite certain of that?" asked Snape, raising an eyebrow. "You will find, I think, that you've lost a bit of your – ah – __**clout**__ with the wizarding world. Helping to bring about the return of the Dark Lord is an exploit most people frown upon."_

"_There was nothing I could do! I—"_

"_No, no, Potter. I've no interest in listening to your fervent, pathetic, and wholly inadequate protestations. You see, I have brought you here to duel."_

"_What?!" snapped Harry._

_Snape pointed his wand at the ropes imprisoning Harry and thought _Diffindo!_ Then he reached into his own robes and pulled out Harry's wand, which he quickly threw across the dungeon. Harry rose with some difficulty and rushed to retrieve it._

"_Now then," said Snape as soon as Harry laid hands on his wand, "let us begin. Are you prepared?"_

_Harry glared but said nothing. His wand hand was trembling._

_Snape smiled at his opponent's obvious trepidation and raised his wand. He inclined his head slightly and said, "Bow, Potter."_

"_No," Harry growled._

"_I wish you wouldn't force me to repeat the maneuver the Dark Lord's had to exercise during your disastrous duel last summer, but if you refuse to bow voluntarily, I __**will**__ make you. Now bow!"_

"_NO!" yelled Harry belligerently. _

"_Very well. Perhaps it's better this way. But I think…I would rather see you __**kneel**__ – that seems a more eloquent show of deference, wouldn't you agree?"_

_Snape pointed his wand at Harry and thought, _Corruo!_ Harry immediately fell to his knees._

"_Now rise," whispered Snape as he lifted the spell._

_Harry scrambled to his feet and shouted, "_Stupi_—"_

_Snape effortlessly blocked the curse with a slight twitch of his wand and thought, _Sepelio Mentis! _Harry's fervent screams were music to Snape's ears. Curious as to what the boy was seeing, he pointed his wand at him and thought, _Legilimens!_ In Harry's mind, Snape saw dementors swarming around him. Harry was without a wand and cowering in fear. A dementor reached forward with its scaly hand and closed it's bony fingers around the terrified boy's head. He screamed as the creature lowered its hood and positioned its mouth directly above Harry's. Smirking, Snape withdrew from his mind. He kept his wand trained on Harry and thought the countercurse, _Resarcio Sanitas!_ Then he watched as the spell fell away; Harry drew up into a fetal position and started to cry."_

"_Get up, Potter."_

_Harry sobbed harder and didn't move._

"_Sniveling little girl. I wonder which of us James Potter would call 'Snivellus' now. Get __**up**__!" Snape thought, _Consurgo!_, and Harry was restored to his feet._

_Harry picked up his wand from the ground and pointed it at Snape, who was still smirking, and shouted, "_Cruc_—"_

_Snape's dark eyes flashed, and Harry was blasted off his feet as Snape thought, _Depulso!_ "I don't think so, Potter," he sneered disdainfully. "Predictably, that was an exceedingly poor effort. Allow me to demonstrate… _Crucio!_"_

_Snape allowed Harry to writhe under the curse for several minutes, and he realized he could never tire of such a pleasing sight. And yet, he was far more anxious to reach the finale of this little demonstration. After all, one __**can**__ have too much of a good thing. And if he kept this up, he would be late for lunch. He lifted the curse, and Harry lay on the ground, trembling violently._

"_Care to make one last attempt to curse me?" asked Snape, black eyes glittering malevolently. "Or should I be merciful and end this quickly?" Harry said nothing, and Snape shrugged. "Very well," he said quietly. Smiling gleefully, he shouted, "_Sectumsempra!_"_

_He watched with satisfaction as Harry screamed and bled. But after a couple of minutes, he frowned. "My Lord, Potter. Your ceaseless bleeding is making a mess of my dungeon. Best to finish this now, I think. _Avada_—"_

_But suddenly Harry stopped bleeding and leapt to his feet. Despite his lack of a wand, he blocked the Killing Curse with a shrug of his shoulders._

_Snape stared, dumbfounded. "But that's not possib—"_

_Before he could finish his sentence, however, Snape was lifted into the air, and strings attached themselves to his hands and feet. Then, against his will, he began to dance – a horrible, embarrassing Riverdance to the tune of… _Master of Puppets_? And Harry stood there, grinning maliciously and singing the song at the top of his lungs._

"_Excellent work, Harry m'boy," said Voldemort's high voice. Snape gasped in surprise and looked up at the Dark Lord in horror. Voldemort was huge, and he was manipulating the strings which were forcing Snape to dance feverishly._

_Still addressing Harry, Voldemort asked, "Would you care for a kitty muffin?"_

"_Er, no thanks, dude," said Harry uncomfortably. "I'm… on a diet."_

"_Suit yourself," said Voldemort nonchalantly as he reached into his robes, withdrew a fresh cat muffin, and took a big bite._

"AGGGHHHHHH!" screamed Snape in terror as he woke from the dream (which had turned into a nightmare). He fell out of his bed and toppled to the floor. He was tangled in bed sheets, and he snarled in comprehension when he heard the sound of his phone playing _Master of Puppets_. The Dark Lord was calling. With difficulty, he extricated himself from the blankets and grabbed his nauseatingly pink cell phone.

Opening it, he bellowed, "**WHAT!?!**"

"How dare you!" said Voldemort's angry voice. "What do you mean, 'What'?"

"You woke me up!" exclaimed Snape.

"I think someone may need an attitude adjustment," said Voldemort quietly. "Would you care to find out whether the Cruciatus works over the phone?"

"Er, no, my Lord," said Snape quickly. "I apologize for my boorish behavior – I was merely startled. I didn't mean–"

"Fine, fine," said Voldemort in a bored voice, "stop your sniveling."

Snape bristled at the word "sniveling," but held his tongue.

"I called you," continued Voldemort, "to inform you that your presence is required at Malfoy Manor by 10:00 this morning."

Snape looked at the clock on the wall. It was 9:58 AM. "…10:00? But… but that's in two minutes, my Lord, and I haven't even—"

"Just get off your ass and come!" said Voldemort brusquely as he hung up the phone.

Snape glared at the floor for a moment. "Goddammit," he muttered.

**.8.**

Snape arrived at the Manor at 10:15 AM. He was well rested but extremely depressed. He was late. By the Dark Lord's strict standards, he was very late. This was going to be bad.

Lucius opened the door and looked at Snape appraisingly. "You're totally fucked," he said simply.

Snape scowled. "Thank you, Lucius, but I am already aware of that. Perhaps if the Dark Lord had given me more than two minutes notice, I might have arrived in a more timely manner." He strode into the parlor and looked around. "Why didn't your elf answer the door? Has Avery finally killed him?"

"No," replied Lucius. "Buttmunch has been upstairs cleaning the bathroom for the past two hours."

"Two _hours_?"

"Yes," Lucius said, rolling his eyes. "It seems Amycus decided to have a burrito at a goddamn Mexican restaurant about an hour before he came over here. Turns out, the restaurant had a health rating of 63."

"So is he sick?" asked Snape.

"No, _he's_ fine. But my bathroom isn't. He got it out of his system in a hurry. As _he_ put it, he 'had an explosion'."

Snape scrunched up his face in disgust and decided to change the subject. "Is Narcissa here?"

"_No_," said Lucius acerbically, "she's out spending my money in Diagon Alley. The woman seems to think I'm _made_ of galleons."

"And aren't you?" asked Snape with a smirk.

Lucius glared at him and said, "Come on – let's go into the living room. We'll see if you're still smirking when the Dark Lord gets through with you."

Snape scowled and followed his irritable friend into the next room. He looked around to see who was there: Alecto, Amycus, Goyle, Crabbe, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Dolohov, and Wormtail. Snape stopped short when he saw the Dark Lord sitting in an armchair, munching on a sandwich and sipping a glass of Firewhiskey contently.

"Good morning, my Lord," Snape said nervously. "I apologize for my tardiness, but—"

Voldemort frowned and looked around for a clock. "Are you late? What time is it?"

"Er… 10:01," Snape lied, hoping that being one minute late was more acceptable than being _15_ minutes late.

"Oh well. Help yourself to some food, Severus," said Voldemort, pointing at the large platter of sandwiches that was sitting on the coffee table. "I'll torture you later when I'm in the mood."

Snape eyed the sandwiches warily. "What kind are they?" He was hungry, but he wasn't willing to take a chance that the sandwiches were made of cats or spider monkeys or lemurs or any other unconventional deli meat.

"I can assure you they aren't made of _cat_," said Lucius bitterly. "I'm fresh out of _cat_."

When Snape still looked hesitant, Bellatrix snapped, "It's just peanut butter, you cowardly, miserable old bat."

"Ugh," said Snape with a look of disgust, "I hate peanut butter."

"Why?" asked Dolohov from across the room.

"Because it sticks to the roof of my mouth, and I can't talk," answered Snape. "It's disgusting."

"What, are you afraid you won't be able to pronounce your pretentious, 7-syllable, pompous words correctly if you indulge in a bit of peanut butter?" sneered Bellatrix.

"Are you implying that my manner of speech is affected and grandiloquent?"

"Overblown jackass," she muttered.

"What are you insinuating, you repellant whore?" growled Snape.

"I'm not _insinuating_ anything. I'm flat-out _telling_ you – you're a pompous asshole. You sound like an idiot."

"'Pompous asshole' is not my preferred appellation, and—"

"See?!" she exclaimed, as if he had just proven her point. "You sound like you swallowed a thesaurus."

"Oh, I see, Bellatrix. You'd rather I spoke as you do? Like a feeble-minded, subnormal child who deserves a seat at the very _back_ of the 'short bus'?"

"No, I'd rather you talked like a normal human being. Oh wait, there's _nothing_ normal about you – from your greasy hair to your hooked—"

"There is nothing abnormal about the way I speak!" snarled Snape.

"Oh look, I'm Professor Severus S. Snape!" mocked Bellatrix. "I have lamentably chosen that deplorable profession due to my overwhelming need to torment children twenty years younger than my haughty, bombastic, arrogant self because I'm a huge dick on a pathetic power trip! Treating other human beings like shit is the only way I can validate my pointless existence! I use words like 'grandiloquent' and 'desideratum' and 'sedulous' and 'appellation' and 'pestiferous' and a slew of other POMPOUS words that _no one else uses_!"

"It's no fault of mine that your puerile mind is incapable of processing—"

"God, both of you just shut the fuck up!" snapped Voldemort.

"Yes, my Lord," said Bellatrix and Snape together.

Not knowing exactly what to say or why they were all gathered together, the Death Eaters stared at Voldemort in silence as he gnawed on his sandwich. Snape curled his lip in disgust as he watched the tyrannical bastard chew. He was chewing obnoxiously, with his mouth wide open, and there were little crumbs sticking to his lips. It made Snape want to hurl.

Suddenly, Voldemort began to make loud grunting and coughing noises. His Death Eaters stared at him in perplexity. Then he reached up and placed both hands on his throat. Snape instantly recognized it as the universal sign for "I'm choking!" His companions, however, weren't as astute…

"What's he doing?" asked Goyle.

"He's grabbing his throat all funny," said Amycus thoughtfully. "…Does that mean he wants us to suck his dick?"

"That's stupid! Why the hell would that mean he wants us to suck his dick?" asked Crabbe.

"Oh, how _vile_," muttered Alecto.

"Well, I dunno," said Amycus defensively. "I mean, it sort of looks like he's choking himself, and the phrase 'choking the chicken' means 'masturbating'."

"So he wants to masturbate?" asked Bellatrix, frowning.

"Maybe he wants _us_ to masturbate him," suggested Rodolphus.

"Oh, _nasty_," said Crabbe.

"Well, _I'm _not having any part of _that_," declared Rabastan. "But go ahead, Rodolphus – masturbating guys is your area of expertise, isn't it? Your favorite pastime? Have at it, fruitloop."

"Ugh, no!" exclaimed Rodolphus. "Gay men have _standards_, thank you very much."

"Oh, so you finally admit it!" yelled Bellatrix angrily.

"He's gay?" asked Amycus.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Well, well, the last horse _finally_ crosses the finish line. _Yes_, Amycus. He's as gay as those assholes who never gave up on disco and continue to wear platform shoes and bellbottoms every Friday night at the club. Everyone else has figured that out. Except you. Because you're nigh retarded and-"

"I still think he wants his dick sucked," interrupted Wormtail.

"No, no," replied Goyle, "I think the 'suck my dick' sign is, like… both hands crossed over your groin." He made an obscene gesture to demonstrate.

"Are you sure?" asked Amycus. "Maybe he just has a different interpretation."

"Well, _I'm_ not sucking him off!" repeated Rabastan adamantly.

"No one even _asked_ you, you raging homophobe!" snapped Rodolphus.

"Well _someone_ has to suck it—"

"Goddammit, you witless imbeciles!" snarled Snape. "He's not requesting a blowjob! He's CHOKING!"

"Ohhhhhh," said the rest of the Death Eaters with dawning comprehension.

"But… but it might be both, though," offered Wormtail, who seemed determined to make the situation more complicated than it actually was.

"Maybe he wants to be choked _while_ he gets a blowjob," suggested Lucius.

"You mean like autoerotic asphyxiation?" asked Bellatrix.

"Well, _I'm_ not coming within 10 feet of that bald bastard's shaft!" yelled Rabastan frantically, as if he couldn't get anyone to listen to him.

"What the FUCK is your problem?" snapped Rodolphus. "Is this about _me_? Do you have something to say to me? _What_ is your problem with homosexuality?"

"Do you think the Dark Lord has any pubes?" interjected Wormtail.

"Why would you even _think_ about that?! What, are you looking to _braid_ them, you slimy, queer little rodent?" hissed Bellatrix viciously.

"Is the Dark Lord trying to—" began Lucius.

"NO, YOU IDIOTS!" bellowed Snape furiously. "HE'S _JUST_ CHOKING! _**WHAT**_ IS YOUR PREOCCUPATION WITH DICK-SUCKING?!?"

Everyone went silent for a moment, except Voldemort, who was still grunting and gesturing urgently. He looked pretty fucking stupid, but no one was paying him much attention.

After a long pause, Lucius said, "What do you mean, Severus? Do you not like having your dick sucked?"

Amycus frowned. "Yeah, what's _your_ problem? Everyone loves blowjobs."

"Are _you_ gay?" asked Rabastan accusingly.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!" snarled Rodolphus. "Gay men _love_ to get their dicks sucked! You think _I_ don't enjoy a good blowjob once and awhile just because I'm _gay_?? I like blowjobs more than _most_ people! I masturbate just from _thinking_ about blowjobs!"

"That's not something to brag about!" snapped Rabastan.

"Bigot!" hissed Rodolphus.

"Yeah, that's just straight-up ignorant, Rabastan," said Lucius disapprovingly.

"Wh-what?" stammered Rabastan. "But I never said – I—I mean… there's nothing wrong with… I mean, not really… I—I… _What_??"

"Um, excuse me," said Bellatrix. "Forgive me for interrupting, but I think what we should be focusing on is Snape's distaste for blowjobs. There's something really wrong with a man who has an aversion to blowjobs."

"I _don't_ have a problem with blowjobs!" protested Snape. "This just isn't the time to be discussing—"

"Well _of course_ you don't want to discuss it, you repugnant, undesirable old turd!" said Bellatrix. "You've never _had_ one, so you're awkward about—"

"I most certainly have!" cried Snape indignantly. "What makes you think—"

"_What_ is this obsession with blowjobs?" asked Alecto exasperatedly.

"Hah! What woman would put _your_ greasy prick in her mouth?" Bellatrix taunted, ignoring Alecto.

"How dare you—!" began Snape furiously.

"Yeah, that's a dick only a mother could love," said Amycus moronically.

"Are you implying that I've engaged in sexual relations with my _mother_?" yelped Snape, somewhat shrilly.

"Ooooh, defensive, are we?" jeered Bellatrix. "So it's true? Afraid someone is going to find out about your _mommy_ fetish?"

"What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean, you foul, revolting, street-walking hook—"

"Hey— hey guys," interrupted Lucius. "I just noticed something. I think the Dark Lord is sort of… choking."

"YOU _JUST_ NOTICED THIS?!" yelled Snape incredulously.

"Choking?!" cried Bellatrix despairingly, as if this were the first time the idea had been posited. "Someone do something!"

"Yeah, we should probably help," agreed Crabbe reluctantly.

No one moved.

"Save him!" yelped Bellatrix as she watched Voldemort crawling toward his Death Eaters, mouthing the words, "Help me!"

Amycus frowned. "He's been choking for about 10 minutes. Is that even possible? Personally, I think he's putting on."

"No one cares what you think!" hissed Bellatrix.

"Heh. Amycus isn't _really_ thinking," snickered Goyle. "If he was, his head would have exploded by now."

"Seriously, though, I _don't_ have a problem with blow jobs," interjected Snape randomly. "In fact, I absolutely adore—"

"HELP HIM!" shrieked Bellatrix, pointing at Voldemort.

"How?" asked Amycus.

"Do the Heineken!" cried Bellatrix desperately.

"Heineken is a _beer_, you drunken strumpet!" Snape barked. "You mean the Heimlich maneuver!"

"WHATEVER!" screeched Bellatrix in a panicky voice. "JUST DO IT!"

"No thank you," answered Snape disdainfully.

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"…Truth be told," began Snape hesitantly, "I'm not terribly fond of touching him."

Bellatrix whipped out her wand and pointed it at Snape's chest. "DO it, or so help me _god_, I'll end your worthless life right now!"

Realizing that there was no way he could get his wand out in time to defend himself, he scowled at Bellatrix and began walking toward Voldemort. "Just so you know, Bellatrix," he snarled over his shoulder, "there's no way in hell _any_ deity would be stupid enough to help you. _Bitch_."

Then he reluctantly pulled the Dark Lord to his feet and positioned himself behind Voldemort. Placing his fists beneath the hairless prick's diaphragm, Snape began thrusting upward and pulling the choking despot toward him. He thrust harder and harder, but try as he might, the obstruction would not dislodge itself from his throat. Snape realized that he probably looked ridiculous, and his humiliation and disgust compelled him to thrust even harder in an attempt to get the embarrassing display over with. After about 45 seconds of this, the other Death Eaters began to snicker. From their point of view, Snape and Voldemort appeared to be engaged in a particularly enthusiastic (and reasonably violent) hump-fest.

Infuriated by their suggestive sniggering, Snape grunted, "Fuck… you… all…!" between thrusts.

When Voldemort began mouthing the word, "Harder!" over and over again, Lucius, Rodolphus, Wormtail, and Crabbe burst into uncontrollable laughter. Wormtail actually fell to the floor in a fit of giggles when Rodolphus yelled, "Harder, Snape! You're almost there! _Finish_ him!"

Suddenly, an enormous chunk of peanut butter and slobbery bread flew from Voldemort's mouth, and he went limp in Snape's arms. Panting, Snape dropped him to the floor and looked up at his audience.

"Well, _that_ looked satisfying," commented Lucius, smirking.

"Heh. So, was it good for you, Severus? It was obviously good for _him_," remarked Rodolphus, gazing at Voldemort's exhausted, prostrate form.

Everyone laughed, except for Bellatrix – who was sobbing with relief and kneeling beside Voldemort – and Snape, who was clenching his fists and glaring at Rodolphus murderously.

Snape said nothing and looked down at Bellatrix hatefully as she helped her Lord into a sitting position. The Death Eaters' mouths fell open as they noticed the moisture on the front of Voldemort's robes. Everyone looked thoroughly revolted.

"Ugh, I think he came a little," muttered Goyle.

"Oh, god – oh… gross, oh my god…" said Lucius with a nauseated expression on his face.

"He didn't _come_!" barked Snape furiously. "He PISSED himself!"

Lucius gasped. "Oh my god, get him off my rug! Someone pick him up – he'll ruin my rug! I can't have _pee_ on my rug! Do you know how much that fucking thing _cost_?!"

As Lucius ran around the room looking for a towel to clean up the mess, Voldemort managed to gasp, "…Kill… you… all… dead meat… how… dare you… leave me… like… that?"

Upon hearing this, Lucius and the rest of the Death Eaters froze. They stared at one another, terror etched on their faces. They had fucked up, and they knew it. How much of their conversation had the Dark Lord heard? They realized that there was a pretty good chance that Voldemort might really kill them…

**.8.**

But he didn't.

Make no mistake, there's was _plenty_ of torture for everyone involved (particularly Rabastan, who had called Voldemort a "bald bastard"), but no one was actually killed. And about an hour later (when everyone had finally recovered from the effects of the Cruciatus), Voldemort cleared his throat and got up out of his armchair.

"Now, then. Listen up!" he said loudly. "I brought you all here today for a reason."

"What reason is that, my Lord?" asked Lucius.

"I've decided," began Voldemort, "that we should have a 'game day' every so often, simply to keep things interesting. After all, I wouldn't want you to think that being a Death Eater is _all_ about torture and killing. We can have fun, too, can't we?"

"Yes, my Lord," answered the Death Eaters awkwardly.

"So today we're going to play a game," Voldemort continued.

"…What sort of game?" asked Snape suspiciously.

Voldemort smiled cheerfully. "We're going to do a _Star Wars_ RPG!"

"An RP-what?" asked Amycus.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "_Role playing game_. It's when you take a movie or game like _Star Wars_ and pretend to be the characters."

A collective groan rose from the rest of the room. The _last_ thing anyone wanted to do was to act out a muggle movie. "Er, my Lord," began Snape, "this is most unfortunate, but I am afraid I won't be able to participate because—"

Voldemort sighed heavily. "_Everyone_ participates! _Everyone_ has to have a character. Even – and perhaps _especially_ – you. Maybe this will lighten you up a bit. I don't know whether you realize this, but you're a very depressing person to be around."

Snape clenched his jaw in anger. "Fine. But I get to be Gandalf," said Snape firmly.

"That's _Lord of the Rings_, dipshit," said Bellatrix. "_Star Wars_ is the one about outer space."

Snape curled his lip in disgust but maintained his composure. "Very well. But I get to be Spock."

"That's _Star Trek_, you ignorant shit!" snapped Bellatrix in exasperation. "_Star Wars_ is the one about the Empire and the Jedi and the Wookiee!"

"Oh, that's right," said Snape condescendingly, "I forgot – you have nothing better to do with your time than watch muggle films. So enlighten me – what in fuck's name might a 'Wookiee' be, Bellatrix?"

"This is unacceptable, Severus," interrupted Voldemort sternly. "There's no way we can play a _Star Wars_ RPG if you've never seen the movies. I'm afraid we're going to have to watch them."

Snape's eyes widened in horror. The thought of having to sit through several muggle films left him momentarily speechless. Then he said, "No, no, my Lord! I… of course I've seen them! I was just attempting to goad Bellatrix into—"

Voldemort raised a hairless eyebrow. "Oh, so you've seen them, have you? Then tell me, _who_ or _what_ is Lando Calrissian?"

Snape froze. He had no idea what a "Lando" was. He'd never seen _Star Wars_, and up until this point, he'd counted himself lucky – sitting around watching movies about spaceships wasn't exactly his cup of tea. He thought quickly. How could he answer the question? Maybe he could reason it out… _Let's see_, he thought, _"Lando Calrissian" has the word "land" in it, so maybe it's a platform the spaceships land on… and I bet there are some cyborgs in the movies because they're science fiction… I'll just make it up as I go… maybe I can play this off…_

With as much dignity as he could muster, he said, "Lando Calrissian is a landing platform for spaceships – it is… on the planet of Calrissian. The main characters in the movies, who are… uh, Jedi-Wookiee-cyborgs land on this platform in an attempt to drive out the evil Klingons and restore power to Captain Kirk, who is trying to escape the wrath of Kahn, who lives in Middle-Earth and plans to defeat Sauron by collaborating with Saruman's horde of gigantic preying mantis monsters who are led by Zorak and Will Smith—"

"Jesus Christ, Snape! Did you take a '_Retard _Potion' this morning?!" yelled Bellatrix.

Voldemort sighed. "Lucius, get the DVD-player ready."

"…Do we have to watch _all six_ movies, my Lord?" asked Lucius fearfully.

"No, no," replied Voldemort, waving his hand dismissively. "Just the original trilogy."

As Lucius readied the DVD-player, Snape sighed heavily. He retreated to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of Firewhiskey that was sitting on the counter. He hoped there were more bottles in the cabinet, because he sure as shit wasn't sharing _his_ with anybody else. _Predictable_, he thought. _The Dark Lord's idea of fun revolves around the sort of activity that would make any self-respecting wizard commit suicide. This is what he woke me out of a sound sleep for?? And people wonder why I hate my life. Idiots._ Snape briefly considered killing himself, but decided against doing it in a public place – he didn't want Bellatrix to have the satisfaction of laughing over his dead body. He resigned himself to his depressing situation and walked back into the living room.

"Well, hurry up!" shouted Voldemort. "Everyone's waiting on you!"

"Yes, my Lord," muttered Snape as he took a seat between Lucius and Amycus on the sofa.

"Everyone ready?" asked Voldemort happily. The Death Eaters nodded. "Excellent!"

Then Voldemort turned off the lights and pushed "play" on the DVD control. Snape cringed as the movie's theme music came blasting out of Lucius's huge speakers. As words began scrolling up the screen, he let out a miserable sigh and prepared himself for a very unpleasant afternoon. _Well, at least I can use this time to come up with new, inventive ways to exterminate myself_, he thought.

**.8.**

By the time the third movie _finally_ ended, Snape had fallen asleep a total of seven times and been kicked by Bellatrix a total of 35 times because he'd been unable to stop making sarcastic comments. As Lucius turned the TV off, Snape elbowed Amycus (who was asleep) hard in the chest.

"What…? Huh…?" mumbled Amycus sleepily.

"That was awesome! So now we pick our characters?" asked Wormtail excitedly.

"I get to be Han Solo!" declared Rodolphus.

"Wouldn't you rather be Princess Leia?" muttered Rabastan.

"If anything, Rodolphus should be that effeminate talking robot," said Lucius, smirking.

"Can I be Bilbo?" asked Amycus groggily.

"What the hell are you _talking_ about?!" shouted Bellatrix. "That's one of the hobbits from _Lord of the Rings_! How could you not know that? We just watched all three _Star_—"

"You slept through the whole thing, didn't you?" interrupted Goyle.

Amycus glanced over at Voldemort nervously. "No, I—"

"Yes you did!" accused Crabbe. "I saw you! You were drooling!"

"Drooling?" asked Lucius in alarm. "You better not have drooled on my sofa! It's upholstered in Italian silk!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Can we just get on with this? I want to be Obi Wan Ke—"

"No, no, no!" shouted Voldemort. "You can't pick your own characters! We're going to draw names from a hat!"

"Oh, that's bullshit…" muttered Amycus.

"Now let's get started," continued Voldemort. He pulled out his wand and produced a hat. Snape looked down at it and saw that it contained several folded slips of paper. When no one moved toward the hat, Voldemort snapped, "Well, go on! Take a name!"

Everyone approached the hat and picked a slip of paper. Then they backed away slowly, afraid to discover their fate. Everyone was mortally terrified they'd get a particularly stupid character.

"Well, _open_ them!" hissed Voldemort impatiently.

The Death Eaters obeyed immediately. Snape's jaw dropped, and his eyes widened in horror as he read the name on his piece of paper:

**_YODA_**

"FUCK!" shouted Snape. "I'm not going to do this! Yoda's ignorant prattling makes a house elf sound intelligent!"

"You'll do it, or I'll torture you for the rest of the evening!" insisted Voldemort.

"Goddammit!" hissed Snape. "I'm going to kill myself."

"Get into character, Severus!" growled Voldemort in a threatening voice.

"Fine. _Kill myself I will_," said Snape derisively.

"That's better," said Voldemort approvingly. He looked around at the other Death Eaters. "Well, what did the rest of you get?"

"Luke Skywalker," proclaimed Lucius smugly.

"Obi Wan Kenobi," said Rodolphus, sounding immensely relieved.

"C-3PO," muttered Goyle angrily.

"R2-D2," said Wormtail with a grimace.

"The Emperor," said Alecto, looking a tad disconcerted.

"Han Solo," said Rabastan dispassionately.

"Princess Leia," said Bellatrix, looking pleased.

"You're too butch to play a princess," said Snape. "You deserve to be a Storm Trooper. Or a Wookiee. Or an Ewok. Or an Imperial-fucking-Walker. Fatass."

"I am NOT fat—"

"Shut up, Bellatrix!" chided Voldemort. He shook his head in exasperation and added, "Well, which characters did the rest of you get?"

"Chewbacca," muttered Dolohov glumly.

"Lando Calrissian," said Crabbe with an air of indifference.

"Frodo Baggins," returned Amycus with a thoroughly confused expression on his face.

Everyone turned to look at him. "Frodo?" asked Lucius. "How the hell did that get in there?"

Amycus shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Of _course_ it matters," snapped Bellatrix. "You can't be a hobbit! It'll mess up the story – it won't make any sense!"

"Christ, chill out Bellatrix," said Voldemort wearily. "We'll just have to work with it."

"But… But it's not—" began Bellatrix.

"What part did you get, my Lord?" interrupted Goyle.

"Darth Vader," replied Voldemort happily.

Snape rolled his eyes. _Naturally_, he thought. _He totally __**fixed**__ that!_

"Well, now that we all have our parts, let's get our equipment together!" said Voldemort eagerly.

Snape watched with a haughty air of detachment as Voldemort transfigured three candles into lightsabers. He handed a blue one to Rodolphus, a green one to Lucius, and kept the red one for himself. He then fitted Bellatrix, Rabastan, and Crabbe with fake space guns. He rolled Bellatrix's hair up into two buns and pinned them on either side of her head. Snape sneered at the rapturous expression on her face. _Disgusting!_ he thought. _Every time the Dark Lord touches her, she looks like she's about to cream herself. …Actually, she probably __**is**__ creaming herself. Ugh. _After fixing Bellatrix's hair, Voldemort gave Alecto a cloak that looked very much like the Emperor's.

As Voldemort fussed over details, Wormtail asked, "What about us? Goyle and I are supposed to be robots."

Voldemort looked up from what he was doing. "Well, that's easy enough. Goyle, you're the gold-colored one, right? C-3PO?"

Goyle clenched his jaw in irritation, glared down at the floor, and nodded tightly. In response, Voldemort waved his wand, and a bucket of yellow paint flew through the air and landed on Goyle's head. He cried out in surprise as the paint poured down his face and onto his robes. He stood there for a few moments, his body rigid. Everyone watched him nervously – Goyle was infamous for his bad temper, and if he lost it, they had no idea what he might do or how many of them he might kill before they managed to get him back under control. After a few long seconds, he jerked the bucket off his head and flung it across the room. He glared at Voldemort with a look of profound loathing on his face, and a vein pulsed dangerously in his right temple; his whole body was shaking, and he appeared to be having a violent internal debate about whether he should blast Voldemort off his feet. Soon, however, he regained his composure somewhat and returned his gaze to the floor.

Once he was certain Goyle wasn't going to cause any trouble, Voldemort turned to Wormtail. "And you're the stumpy little robot? R2-D2?"

Wormtail nodded nervously. Voldemort studied him intently for a minute, then shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. Your character doesn't talk, anyway. Just… beep and whistle. Everyone will know who you are."

"Yes, my Lord," said Wormtail, obviously relieved.

"What about Snape?" asked Bellatrix, smiling malevolently. "He doesn't look _anything_ like Yoda. You have to fix him up."

Voldemort looked over at Snape, who was standing stock-still, as if he hoped he could avoid detection by not moving. If that's what he was going for, it didn't work. Voldemort promptly pointed his wand at Snape's head and muttered an incantation. Everyone immediately burst into hysterical laughter.

"Ouch! – SHIT!" cried Snape. He felt like he'd been hit over the head with a mallet. He reached up to grab the top of his head, and his hands landed on… a very large set of ears. Mouth agape, he stood there, pulling at the ears, and wondering what the hell was going on; abruptly, he realized that the Dark Lord had given him Yoda ears. "Oh, goddammit!"

"Oh… my… god…!" gasped Bellatrix, trying to control her laughter. "He finally has an appendage that's bigger than his nose!"

Snape glared at her resentfully. "For your information, I already _had_ an appendage which is _much_ larger than my nose, you abhorrent floozy!"

Alecto wrinkled her nose in distaste. "_Thank_ you, Snape, for that delightful innuendo. There's nothing I'd rather be doing than thinking about your _cock_."

"It's no fault of mine if your mind is in the gutter!" snarled Snape.

"_You're_ the one who implied that you have a particularly large _member_! Why are men always so obsessed with—"

"Oh come _off_ it, Alecto!" Snape interrupted. "Your incessant maniacal feminist proclamations are driving everyone insane!"

Alecto bristled. "Well, if the _rest_ of you weren't such chauvinist pigs who felt the need to brag about your—"

"I am _not_ chauvinistically touting the merits of my _dick_, you overzealous, ball-breaking bitch!" protested Snape.

"Yeah, stop being such a vicious dyke," interjected Crabbe.

Goyle nodded. "The whole 'women's movement' bullshit is getting really old, Alecto. It was cute for a while, and I'm glad you ladies had fun – but it's time for you to get your asses back in the kitchen and bake me a pie."

"Preferably blueberry," added Dolohov, smirking.

"Sexists!" screamed Alecto, trembling with rage. "All of you are sexist!"

Goyle snorted derisively. "Well, why don't you go _cry_ about it with the rest of the _oppressed_ bitches?"

Alecto pulled out her wand and aimed it at Goyle's head. "_REDUCTO!_"she bellowed. Goyle didn't manage to duck in time, and the curse blew his left ear off. He grabbed the side of his head and fell to the ground, howling in pain.

Voldemort, who had been practicing with his lightsaber on the other side of the room and ignoring the argument up until this point, glanced up and rolled his eyes. "Someone had better fix C-3PO's ear," he said in a bored voice.

"Well, it won't be me, my Lord!" snarled Alecto. "He deserved what he got."

"Severus, fix it," said Voldemort distractedly as he fiddled with his lightsaber.

"I'll not, my Lord," returned Snape defiantly. "I also think he rather deserved it." While it was true that Alecto's constant delusions of female persecution aggravated the hell out of him, Snape didn't actually have a problem with feminism.

"Bellatrix, fix it," murmured Voldemort, still too absorbed with his lightsaber to care that he'd been disobeyed.

"Why?" she asked slyly. "He looks better that way. That bloody mess does him credit – at least it masks the hideous features on the left side of his grotesque face."

"Crabbe, fix it," said Voldemort with a hint of impatience in his voice.

Without a word, Crabbe waved his wand and mended Goyle's severed ear. Panting, Goyle slowly pulled himself to his feet. "You better watch your back, bitch," he growled, addressing Alecto.

"Hah!" she scoffed. "You were just lucky your friends were here to help you. If I ever run across you in a dark alley, I'll reduce you to a whimpering, sobbing heap of foul flesh at my feet."

"I doubt that," Goyle said threateningly. "If we ever meet in a dark alley, I'll give you something to remember me by. Something _big_. About ten inches, in fact. And your tight little ass will be so sore, you won't be able to shit right for a week. But I can promise you this: you'll love every goddamn minute of—"

Noticing the savage look on Alecto's face, Snape quickly cast a Silencing Charm on Goyle to prevent him from finishing his statement. "Please," said Snape quietly, stepping between them and holding up his hands. "I already have a fucking headache."

Surprised by his gesture, Alecto's expression softened, and she nodded.

"Are you children done bickering?" drawled Voldemort.

"Yes, my Lord," replied the Death Eaters.

"_Finally_," said Voldemort. "Well, is everyone ready? It's time to start the game."

The room was silent for a moment. After a few seconds, Dolohov said, "Uh, _how_?"

Alecto glanced over at Dolohov, and a mischievous expression passed over her face. She saw another opportunity to punish a chauvinist pig. "Oh, but my Lord," she began, "we can't start yet. Dolohov doesn't look _anything_ like Chewbacca."

Snape smirked. "True. He's not _nearly_ furry enough."

"I'll fix it!" she exclaimed cheerfully. She pointed her wand at Dolohov and said, "_Surculus Capillus!_"

He gasped as he felt patches of hair cropping up all over his body. Hair sprouted from every exposed inch of skin, and Snape suspected that he was equally furry beneath his robes. The hair grew uncontrollably, and it was soon ridiculously long. It covered his eyes and mouth, and he let out a muffled, "Help!" from beneath the bushy mass of hair. Snape observed that his face rather resembled the back of Hermione Granger's head.

"Make it stop!" begged Dolohov.

Satisfied (and clearly amused) with her work, Alecto complied, murmuring "_Subsisto!_"

The Death Eaters roared with laughter as they watched Dolohov attempt to pull the hair away from his eyes and mouth. He looked more like Cousin It from the _Adams Family_ than Chewbacca, and the spectacle was decidedly more entertaining than Snape's Yoda ears.

"I can't see!" came Dolohov's muffled voice.

"How unfortunate," remarked Snape.

"Cut it off!" cried Dolohov desperately.

"No, no – no time for a trim," said Voldemort with a wicked grin. "It's time to get started."

"Uh, I still don't understand how we're supposed to do this," said Crabbe. "How the hell do you play _Star Wars_?"

"Yeah, what do we do?" asked Amycus.

"Just _improvise_, you idiots!" snarled Voldemort irascibly.

"Improvise Yoda cannot," mocked Snape. "Spoken to him the Force has not. Confused he is."

"I have an idea," offered Amycus.

"That's a first," muttered Rabastan.

Amycus ignored him. "Let's throw Darth Vader's lightsaber into the fires under Mount Doom!"

"Fuck you, Frodo," said Bellatrix. "That's _Lord of the_—"

"Well, I don't see _you_ coming up with anything better!" cried Amycus.

"JUST DO SOMETHING!" bellowed Voldemort, pointing his wand threateningly at his Death Eaters.

"Whatever you say," replied Rabastan eagerly. Then he seized Bellatrix and planted a passionate kiss on her lips.

"What the FUCK are you doing?!" demanded Rodolphus. He grabbed Bellatrix's arm and yanked her away from his brother. "That's my _wife_, you shady bastard!"

"I'm Han Solo, and she's Princess Leia. We're _supposed_ to make out! What the hell do _you_ care, anyway?" countered Rabastan. "It's not like she gets any action from you, you vain, fudge-packing pouf! The woman's probably starved for attention!"

"I give her plenty of—" began Rodolphus.

"I resent that, Rabastan," interrupted Bellatrix.

Rabastan frowned. "Why? It's _true_."

"Maybe," agreed Bellatrix, "but it's hard for me to feel terribly deprived. It isn't as if I haven't had plenty of sexual gratification in my life."

Rabastan raised an eyebrow skeptically. Snape grinned malevolently and took an involuntary step forward, eager to hear her explanation. Was Bellatrix about to fess up about being the dirty whore he'd always accused her of being?

"What are you talking about?" said Rodolphus accusingly. "You told me you only had sex with three different guys!"

"Yeah right," muttered Snape, rolling his eyes.

"Yes, and I was being honest," replied Bellatrix, disregarding Snape's comment. "But it's not like sex is the _only_ way to fool around."

"Like what?" snapped Rodolphus. "I sure as hell hope you're not talking about blowjobs."

"Oh, _now_ look who has the problem with blowjobs!" said Rabastan accusingly.

"I don't have a problem with _getting_ blowjobs!" exclaimed Rodolphus. "But I have a problem with my wife handing them out like cheese samples at a deli!"

"What, you think giving a blowjob is worse than just fucking someone?" questioned Crabbe.

"Of course!" yelled Rodolphus. "At least when you _fuck_ someone, you don't put your mouth all over his slimy tool!"

"You're being really irrational," commented Goyle.

Rodolphus turned back to Bellatrix. "Are you talking about blowjobs?!"

"Well… yes. But I don't understand what's wrong with—"

"_Why_ did you tell me you only had sex with three different guys??"

"Because I _did_ only have sex with three different guys!" cried Bellatrix defensively. "That doesn't mean I didn't just go with people!"

"Oh my god, I feel so _nauseous_!" said Rodolphus.

"I'm _sorry_, Rodolphus, I thought you understood!"

"I _did_ understand! I understood that you had sex with three different guys, and that's all you said!"

"Please calm down," Bellatrix pleaded.

"How many?!" demanded Rodolphus.

"Rodolphus!" cried Bellatrix indignantly, obviously embarrassed. "Let it go!"

"How many dicks have you sucked?!" he screamed.

"Alright! Shut up a minute, and I'll tell you! Jesus! I didn't freak out like this when you told me how many _girls_ you fucked."

"This is different, this is important! How many?"

She paused for a moment, thinking and counting on her fingers.

"_Well?_" prompted Rodolphus.

She shuffled her feet awkwardly and said quietly, "Something like… 36."

"What?!" howled Rodolphus. "Something like 36?"

"Lower your voice—"

"What is that, anyway? 'Something like 36'? Does that _include_ me?"

"Oh…" said Bellatrix, looking down at the floor. "37."

"_I'm_ 37?!?" bellowed Rodolphus.

"I need a drink," said Bellatrix. "Buttmunch! Get your ass in here and bring me some Firewhiskey!"

Buttmunch rushed into the room. "Buttmunch is sorry, missus. Would the missus repeat what she said? Buttmunch could not be hearing what the lady was saying through the door."

"37!" Rodolphus yelled at the elf. "My wife sucked 37 dicks!"

The elf's eyes widened. "In a row?"

Bellatrix turned on her heel and began walking briskly in the other direction.

"Hey, where are you going?" asked Rodolphus in a belligerent voice.

"Hey, listen, jerk," she shrieked, walking back across the room to punch him in the chest. "Until today, you never knew how many guys I'd blown because you never even bothered to ask! When we met, I asked you how many women you slept with; you told me, then acted all nonchalant about fucking 12 different girls! Well, I never had sex with 12 different guys!"

"No, but you sucked enough dick!"

"Yeah, I went down on a few guys," conceded Bellatrix.

"A _few_?!"

"And one of those guys was you! The _last_ one, I might add, which if you're too _stupid_ to comprehend, means that I've been faithful to you since we met. All the other guys I went with _before_ I met you! So if you want to have a complex, _go_ ahead, but don't look at me like I'm the town whore, because you were plenty busy yourself before you met me!"

Rodolphus sighed in exasperation. "Well, why did you have to suck their dicks? I mean, why couldn't you sleep with them like any other _decent_ person?"

"Because going down isn't a big deal! I used to like a guy, we'd make out, and sooner or later I'd go down on him. But I only had sex with the guys I loved!"

"Oh, I feel _sick_."

"Don't feel sick!" she protested.

"Every time I kiss you, I'm gonna taste 36 other guys," said Rodolphus bitterly.

"What the fuck's he talking about?" muttered Rabastan. "He probably hasn't kissed a woman in years."

Bellatrix threw up her hands in frustration. "I'm going to get a drink." She turned away from him and strode out of the room.

"I'm 37!" repeated Rodolphus despairingly. "I just can't—"

"Shut _up_, Rodolphus!" she snarled from the next room.

Rodolphus followed her for a few steps, then stopped. "Hey, try not to suck any dick on the way to the kitchen!" he called.

Crabbe raised an eyebrow. He looked intrigued. He glanced at Rodolphus shiftily, then started toward the kitchen with Wormtail, Goyle, and Rabastan close behind him.

"Hey! Hey you!" Rodolphus growled at them. "Get back here!"

**.8.**

Once Bellatrix returned to the living room, it took a few minutes to get Rodolphus under control. He was still fuming, and his desire to beat the hell out of Crabbe, Goyle, Rabastan, and Wormtail had been so intense that he'd had to be physically restrained. Bellatrix was drinking Firewhiskey and shooting furious looks in Rodolphus's direction. Voldemort was practicing with his lightsaber intently. Everyone else was just standing around quietly, looking confused.

Finally, Lucius broke the silence: "Okay, enough stalling. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can get this over with."

"Well, we need to decide on a plot," said Crabbe.

"How about this," began Bellatrix, looking thoughtful, "let's just make it easy. Instead of coming up with something original, let's just do _exactly_ what they did in the movies."

"But we can't start at the beginning!" whined Alecto. "It'll take _forever_!"

"Excellent point," agreed Snape.

"Well, let's start somewhere interesting," said Bellatrix. "Like… let's start with Luke's training."

"But only Snape and I can participate if we do that," said Lucius.

"Well, we can go back and forth," insisted Bellatrix. "We'll do one scene with you two while everybody watches, and then we'll cut to another scene with somebody else."

"But—"

"What_ever_!" snapped Voldemort. "Just hurry up!"

"Uh, right," agreed Bellatrix. "Lucius, you and Snape start. Everyone else, back away and give them some room."

Lucius and Snape stood in the middle of the room, staring at one another, while the rest of the Death Eaters retreated. When Lucius and Snape made no move to begin, Voldemort yelled, "DO SOMETHING!"

"Uh, um, I—er," stammered Lucius. "Uh, Yoda, please teach me to use the Force. I want to be a Jedi like my dad."

Snape struggled to remember what Yoda had said in the movie and finally said, "Too old to begin training you are."

"No I'm not!" said Lucius.

"Angry he is. Like… like his father."

"I'm not angry!"

"Don't give in to hate," said Snape. "It leads to the Dark Side. Once you start down that path, forever will it dominate your destiny."

"Just fucking _teach_ me, asshole!" shouted Lucius.

"A brazen young twit you are. Too hasty. Sodomize you with a large blunt object Lord Vader will."

"Just teach him, jerkoff," yelled Bellatrix from the sidelines.

Snape scowled. "Very well. Lift that stereo two meters off the floor you must," he said, pointing across the room at Lucius's sound system.

Lucius nodded and pulled out his wand.

"The Force you must use!" snapped Snape.

"What?! How?"

"Let the Force flow through you, you must. The Force is strong with you. Strong in your family it is."

Lucius sighed and closed his eyes. He reached out toward the stereo and attempted to move it wandlessly. After about a minute, the equipment trembled a bit, but he couldn't make it rise up off the ground. Frustrated, he ceased his efforts and snarled, "I don't believe it can even be done!"

"That is why you fail!" said Snape smugly, pleased that he had managed to remember the exact line from the movie.

"Borrrrinnng!" said Voldemort in an unnecessarily loud voice. "Okay, my turn. I want to do a scene with the Emperor."

Alecto rolled her eyes and followed Voldemort to the center of the room. Snape and Lucius hurried out of the way.

"Ah, Lord Vader," Alecto began with a sigh, "I sense you wish to continue your search for young Skywalker."

Voldemort said nothing, but made loud (and vaguely obscene) breathing noises.

"Er, Lord Vader, have you not felt his presence?"

More loud breathing.

Alecto walked toward Voldemort and said, "Lord Vader! Do you not wish—"

Suddenly, Voldemort rushed forward and grabbed her chest. Alecto squealed in terror and jumped backward. Several of the Death Eaters laughed, but Lucius turned to Snape and whispered, "Uhhh, why is Darth Vader feeling the Emperor up?"

Snape shook his head uncomprehendingly.

"My Lord!" cried Alecto. "What are you _doing_?! The Emperor is supposed to be a _man_, and you're—"

"I'm trying to make this fucking game interesting, Alecto!" snarled Voldemort. "Tits are _very_ interesting!"

"We need some Storm Troopers, or something," said Dolohov from beneath his mound of hair.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about them! Send in the Storm Troopers!" exclaimed Voldemort brightly. Then he pointed his wand at a closet door, which opened with a bang. Bizarrely, about 20 Storm Troopers ran out of the closet and into the room.

"What the fuck?!" asked Goyle. "Where the hell did we get Storm Troopers?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes. "Well, they're not _really_ Storm Troopers. They're Inferi in costumes." He turned to look at the Inferi and shouted, "Attack!"

"What?!" exclaimed Snape, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus in unison.

As the Storm Troopers came lumbering toward the Death Eaters, Amycus shouted, "Quickly, we have to get Darth Vader's lightsaber and throw it into the Cracks of Doom!"

"Han Solo," began Bellatrix uncertainly, "we… we need your ship!"

"What?" asked Rabastan.

"DO SOMETHING INTERESTING!!!" screamed Voldemort.

Confused, Rabastan shouted, "Uhh… yeah, hurry! We'll take my ship to Mount Doom! Everyone board the _Millennium Falcon_!"

"Er… um, no!" countered Lucius. "The… uh… the Storm Troopers are coming! We have to hold them off!"

"Use the Killing Curse!" suggested Bellatrix.

"Jedi don't use Killing Curses," Rodolphus pointed out.

"Oh," she said. "Well, uh… Lucius! Use the Force!"

"You mean, '_Luke_, use the force'!" countered Lucius.

"ENTERTAIN ME!" screeched Voldemort impatiently.

The Death Eaters jumped in alarm. "Hurry, Luke, use the Force!" cried Crabbe. "The Storm Troopers are going to force us into… into an evil alien butt-orgy!"

Lucius looked a bit confused – he obviously didn't know how to use the Force.

"Sucks at using the Force Luke does," said Snape sardonically. "Need Obi Wan to save us we do." He glanced over at Rodolphus.

"Uh, right," agreed Rodolphus. "Everyone get behind me! I'll… I'll save you!"

"Oh no!" cried Rabastan sarcastically. "Obi Wan has defected to the Dark Side! He wants us to get behind him because he wants to trap us! He will violate us all with his super homo-lightsaber, which is shaped like a gargantuan dildo with large, realistic veins and pulsing—"

"FUCK YOU, YOU GAY-BASHING PIECE OF SHIT!" screamed Rodolphus. He pointed his wand at his brother and cried, "_Incendio_!"

Rabastan's robes burst into flame and he began screaming, "I told you, I told you! He's using the Dark Side of the Force! Help!"

"I'll show you 'the Dark Side', you bigoted little brat!"

"Somebody better help him," remarked Dolohov.

"Shut up, Chewbacca!" snapped Lucius. "You're not allowed to talk!"

"What?"

"Act like a Wookiee!"

"Wha—I…" Dolohov looked around helplessly (which was pointless, since he couldn't see anything through his hair, anyway), then did his best impersonation of Chewbacca: "Gggghhhhhhaaaaa!"

"HELP ME, I'M ON _FIRE_!" screamed Rabastan.

"Oh my," said Goyle in a sarcastic (but surprisingly accurate) portrayal of C-3PO, "you must help him, R2-D2." Everyone looked over at Wormtail expectantly.

Wormtail looked around in alarm. "Uh… beep beep… whistle… beep…"

"Plug himself into the main computer R2-D2 could," suggested Snape, black eyes glittering. "Produce water from the sprinkler system it might."

"…Beep beep… how? …Whistle…" returned Wormtail awkwardly.

"Stick your finger in a light socket you must," replied Snape.

In a characteristic show of obedience, Wormtail walked over to the wall and shoved his fingernail into a light socket as hard as he could. Snape let out a harsh laugh as the electric current raced through Wormtail, who screamed wildly and slumped to the floor, stinking of charred flesh.

"Hilarious!" laughed Goyle sadistically.

"Hey, what character am I?" asked Crabbe. "I forgot."

"PUT ME OUT, PUT ME OUT, I'M ON _**FIRE**_!" bellowed Rabastan desperately.

Lucius pointed his wand at Rabastan and muttered, "_Aguamenti_!" A stream of water issued from Lucius's wand and extinguished the flames. Rabastan slumped to the floor.

Rodolphus turned on Lucius and shouted, "Why did you help him?! He's a filthy queer-bashing motherfucker! Are you taking _his_ side on the gay issue??"

"What? No, I—"

But before Lucius could finish his sentence, Rodolphus rushed forward and swiped at him with his lightsaber. Lucius was so caught off guard that he barely managed to dodge out of the way in time, and although he managed to save his skin, his hair wasn't as lucky: Rodolphus's lightsaber soared through the air and chopped off about five inches of his gorgeous blond tresses. Stunned, Lucius looked back and forth from Rodolphus to the clump of hair on the ground. Rodolphus also froze – he knew he'd crossed a line.

"You BASTARD!" shrieked Lucius. Then he picked up his own lightsaber and ran toward Rodolphus, who had no choice but to fight back. For two wizards who had never held lightsabers before, they were surprisingly adept at using them. Snape watched with relative disinterest as the battle between Lucius and Rodolphus raged on.

"Hey, stop it! Obi Wan and Luke aren't supposed to fight!" protested Bellatrix. "You're on the same side!"

"Enjoying this pathetic display Bellatrix is," Snape cut in. "Likes playing stupid muggle RPGs she does."

He had to shout to be heard because there was quite a lot of yelling and screaming going on. Voldemort had apparently forgotten that he was supposed to be a bad guy, and he was swiping at the Storm Troopers with his lightsaber. He wasn't very good at it, and Crabbe (who couldn't remember which character he was supposed to be, anyway) was trying to help. Goyle had blown a Storm Trooper's helmet off, and upon seeing that the Inferi beneath the mask was a surprisingly attractive woman (for a corpse, anyway), he had approached her for a little chat. He didn't seem to care that she was drooling and couldn't talk back.

Bellatrix had to raise her voice quite a bit to scream, "_Fuck_ you, Yoda!"

"Fuck Bellatrix with a 10-foot pole Yoda would not," taunted Snape. "Genital herpes she has."

"I do NOT have herpes!"

"Sex with animals Bellatrix likes. Caught the herpes during a filthy revel with a hoard of promiscuous, STD-carrying baboons she did."

"At least I didn't have sex with my _mother_, Snape!"

"Ah, admits she fucked contaminated baboons. Tacit consent it is."

"No I _didn't_, you motherfucker! And I mean that LITERALLY! Mother-FUCKER!"

"Seeks to ridicule Yoda because embarrassed about her own sexual activities Bellatrix is. Sexual intercourse with her mother _and_ her father _and_ baboons she had."

"FUCK YOU!"

"Liked it she did."

"Slimeball! I didn't fuck my parents _or_ any animals! And I certainly don't have an STD!"

"Virulent green discharge Bellatrix has," Snape hissed cruelly. "Rancid and nasty it is."

Furious, she launched herself at Snape, knocked him to the ground, and began clawing at his face and pulling on his large Yoda ears.

"Ggggghhhhhhaaaaa!" gargled Dolohov in the background, as if anyone gave a shit whether he was still playing his part.

"Beep… whistle… HELP ME!" cried Wormtail.

"YOU'RE ALL FUCKING IT UP!" bellowed Voldemort when he looked up from his fight against the Storm Troopers.

"PMSing… Darth Vader… is!" Snape quipped awkwardly from beneath Bellatrix.

As Voldemort aimed his wand at Snape, preparing to curse him for his insolence, Amycus yelled, "Hurry – get his lightsaber!" Then he ran forward and snatched it out of the Dark Lord's hand.

"WHAT?!" bellowed Voldemort.

It was chaos – utter _madness_. Everyone was yelling and screaming at the same time, and it was difficult to determine what was actually happening. Lucius's living room was being demolished (yet again). Bellatrix was straddling Snape and had her hands around his throat as she attempted to strangle him; Snape was pulling her hair and trying to punch her in the gut. Wormtail continued to make feeble beeping and whirring noises in the background. Lucius and Rodolphus were still battling, and Rabastan – undeterred by the fact that, as Han Solo, he wasn't in possession of a lightsaber – had joined in as best he could and was furiously smacking at Rodolphus with Lucius's cane. Dolohov was running around blindly, making loud Chewbacca noises with no apparent purpose in mind. Crabbe was cursing at the Inferi, who had tied him to a chair and seemed determined, for no discernible reason, to braid his pubes. Goyle had lured one of the female Inferi over to the side of the room; he had her bent over a chair, and he clearly intended to take advantage of her "compromised" (a.k.a. _deceased_) state. Alecto stood near him, shrieking about what a sexist bastard he was for taking advantage of a defenseless dead woman and threatening to turn him in to the Ministry for unlawful corpse-rape. Amycus was frantically searching for Mount Doom, and Voldemort was chasing him around the room, aiming curses at him and trying to regain his lightsaber.

In short, it was an awful mess.

Distracted by Voldemort's furious screaming, Bellatrix glanced up briefly, which gave Snape an opportunity to punch her in the face as hard as he could. She fell backwards and toppled off him. He climbed to his feet and looked around in awe – the room had descended into chaos the likes of which he'd never imagined. As he stared at his surroundings, he saw Lucius pull out his wand and blast Rodolphus across the room. Rabastan immediately ran over to where his brother had fallen and continued his assault on the unconscious wizard.

"Lucius!" yelled Snape. "Do something!"

Lucius looked around the room desperately. "Do WHAT?"

"Anything! Use the fucking FORCE for all I care!"

Lucius glared at him for a moment, but then nodded. "Follow me!"

Snape hurried to join him as Lucius ran toward the parlor. He reached the front door and pulled on the handle, but it wouldn't open. Voldemort had apparently locked everyone in the house.

"Stand back!" cried Lucius.

Then he pointed his wand at the door and blasted it off its hinges. He rushed out into the night with Snape close on his heels. They ran as fast as they could for several minutes before Snape finally came to a halt. He stood there, panting heavily and covered in sweat. "Lu-Lucius," he huffed. "Don't… you think… you should go… stop them? They'll wreck… your whole house!"

"Too late to prevent that," said Lucius bitterly. "Cissy is going to _kill_ me."

Snape looked back in the direction of the Manor. He could still hear screaming and fighting. He shook his head in disbelief. "That has _got_ to be the worst idea the Dark Lord has _ever_ come up with."

"What about the time he made us all sing Christmas carols for the sick kids in the hospital? That was awful – one of the kids yelled, 'You suck,' and the Dark Lord made a tentacle grow out of the kid's ear. Remember you and I got arrested? The Ministry was so pissed—"

"This was worse!" insisted Snape.

"Oh. Well… you want to go grab a drink in Hogsmeade?" asked Lucius. "I could use one."

"Fuck no! Are you insane? I'm going home! I have classes tomorrow!"

"Don't have to be such a bitch about it," muttered Lucius under his breath.

Snape scowled at him and turned away. It had been yet another horrendous evening, and he just wanted to go home and get in bed. Of course, with his luck, a house elf had probably come into the room and _vomited_ on his fucking bed, or something. _If anything has defiled my bed_, he decided, _I'm going to kill myself straightaway_. He shook his head despairingly at the thought. Then he walked a few paces, turned on the spot, and was gone.

And if he thought _this_ evening was bad, it was _nothing_ compared to the following evening when he discovered that he'd been walking around Hogwarts and teaching classes with his Yoda ears _all day long_. Predictably, no one had bothered to inform him.

**.8.**

* * *

**Acknowledgements:**

1) The idea for the overarching theme of this chapter came from xXblacksakuraXx. She suggested that Voldemort make the Death Eaters watch all six S_tar Wars_ movies and then play an RPG. I only made them watch the original trilogy, though, because there would have been wayyyy too many characters involved if they'd watched all of them. Things were confusing enough as it was, so I decided to be lazy. It was also xXblacksakuraXx's idea for Snape to be Yoda. This was an absolutely _hysterical_ idea, and I hate the fact that I didn't do as much with it as I probably _could_ have. As I said, I had a lot of trouble pulling this chapter together. But in all honesty, I can't imagine any of the Death Eaters (as I've written them) managing to contain their tempers long enough to have _any_ meaningful interaction – particularly one that requires as much coordination and cooperation as an RPG.

2) The whole sandwich incident was Inu-midoriko's idea. (Actually, she may have specified a PB&J sandwich, but I was too lazy to write out "peanut butter and jelly." Now _that's_ laziness, huh?) She suggested that Voldemort choke on a sandwich, which would force Snape to have to do the Heimlich maneuver, which would – to everyone else – look like a whole lot of humping. When she told me her idea, I actually laughed out loud! It amused me so much that I figured I might as well drag it out for as long as possible.

* * *

Again, thank you all SO much for your wonderful ideas! Like I said, I'll be integrating more of them into the next few chapters. Your ideas _will_ be used! I was just a little lost this time around, and I knew that if I didn't put the chapter out soon, it would never happen. That's part of the reason that I took so many short cuts (e.g., Snape and Lucius just running out of the house at the end, not describing the characters' reactions to the movies while they watched them, etc.). Hopefully, I'll be able to collect my thoughts better next time and do a more thorough job. 

If you've stuck with me this long, thank you sooo much for reading! And please give me reviews so I know that I haven't lost you all!


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